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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984456">Moments in Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/recklessdoughnuts/pseuds/recklessdoughnuts'>recklessdoughnuts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Sad George Weasley, Sad Hermione Granger, Slow Burn, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), grief is hard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:21:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/recklessdoughnuts/pseuds/recklessdoughnuts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knew loss all too well. He’d spent his entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop, for more people to die around him. It finally did and he was stuck between relief and his grief. Hermione had never experienced loss, not really. Her grandparents, whom she was never close to, all died before she was 10. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione, for the first time in her life, felt utterly alone. Ron, who had always been able to shrug things off, couldn’t shrug off this. It surrounded him no matter where he turned, so why shouldn’t he just turn away? Ginny wore her sadness like a coat, able to take it on and off when needed. Her family didn’t need another child to succumb to grief. It took awhile for George to leave his (their) room. Who could blame him? He’d lost half of himself. </p><p>This will not be a linear story, but, in it, we will get glimpses of Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and George and how the world continues to turn around them. Even when what they want more than anything, is for it to go in reverse.</p><p>Eventual George/Hermione fic.</p><p>(fyi i hate jkr xoxoxoxoxoxo)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/George Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. an introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is probably important to offer a sort of disclaimer here: this will not be a normal story. We won’t start at the beginning and end at some sort of metaphorical end. This story, as many others, isn’t necessarily linear. No, as the title states, we will tell a number of short stories and, hopefully, these short stories will help us see the larger pictures: of these people, of their lives, of how they fit into and break each other. Of course we will have a sort of main character in a young witch named Hermione Granger. She serves in this role because, well, she is who surprises us the most. We will start with what many would probably believe is probably the defining event in Hermione’s adult life (it isn’t in case that wasn’t clear). We will end with something that feels like a beginning as much as it does a conclusion.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the breakup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>as the title suggests, ron and hermione break up. it's pretty mature, honestly.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>June 2000. London. </strong>
</p><p>In the past 3 months, they had fought throughout every dinner they had together. Barring, of course, those where other people were present. Alone? They fought. Before dinner. After dinner. During dinner. It all ran together. They weren’t even the same fights. Not always. Sometimes it was about Hermione’s work. Sometimes it was about Ron’s. Sometimes they were discussing some family drama and it turned out they were on opposite sides. There was always something.</p><p>This time, she had wanted to cancel because there was a grant deadline and maybe maybe if she did it perfectly, she’d feel better. Maybe if she did it perfectly, they would get the grant and she’d get a promotion and she’d get to do something bloody important for the first time in what felt like forever. But she’d canceled the last time and that had not gone well and she didn’t want to do it again. So they went.</p><p>“How’s the case going? Do you still have to go out to Wales next week?”</p><p>“Yeah. There’s been some suspicious activity in Cardiff, so they want us to check in on it. See if it’s some nutter or something...else.”</p><p>The implication that not all of Voldemort’s followers were gone hung in the air. Hermione nodded before taking a large gulp of her elven wine.</p><p>Honestly, this time, dinner was going just fine until Hermione got a bit warm in the candlelight with her wine and took off her outer robes. The waitress caught sight of her scar almost immediately the next time she came around. How could she not? The white of it stood out dramatically on her dark skin.</p><p>Their food almost ended up on the floor, “Oh. Merlin, Ms. Granger, I didn’t recognize you. Thank you so much for your sacrifice. You–you too, Mr. Weasley.”</p><p>Something behind Hermione’s eyes went a bit cold, “Yes. Will you excuse me?”</p><p>She stood up abruptly, chair screeching across the wooden floor, and was across the restaurant in seconds. Sometimes Ron forgot just how quickly that woman could move.</p><p>The waitress blubbered apologies as Ron waved her off, dropping a couple of galleons on the table before heading off after Hermione. He caught up to her outside, where she was pacing a rut into the cobblestone.</p><p>“Hermione, calm down. It’s okay. She didn’t mean anything by it.”</p><p>He’d meant for it to be comforting, but her head shot towards him, eyes sharp, “I know she didn’t mean anything by it, Ronald. That doesn’t mean that it’s okay or that I need to calm down.”</p><p>She was breathing heavily, hand lightly holding her scar where the two arms crossed. One night, three months after the war had ended, she’d told him that holding it made her feel better. That it made her feel like it was hers. Ron wasn’t sure if that was true or if she told people that, told him that, because she wanted it to be true, for them to believe it.</p><p>They stood there for a few moments, Hermione catching her breath and Ron pretending to not look at her as she paced. She didn’t know why she always reacted like that when people saw her scar. For the most part, Hermione had been able to keep it hidden, though it hadn’t really mattered until she left Hogwarts. The other students had similar kinds of scars, from the Carrows, from the Battle.</p><p>“She was older than us.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Hermione gulped, trying to force her hands out of the fists they’d found themselves in. She wished that there was a breeze. If there was a breeze, then she could put her hands in her pocket. If there was a breeze, she could wear long sleeves. If there was a breeze, no one would feel the need to fucking comment on her scars again.</p><p>“That waitress. She was older than us,” she ground her teeth, “I need to go home,” and disapparated on the spot.</p><p>She fucking left him there. In the middle of the street. Staring after her. Gobsmacked.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Ron strode into their apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. She’d already taken off her outer-robes, throwing them in a heap next to the door. Hermione tried to avoid looking at him.</p><p>She already knew that he was shaking his head, trying to keep his cool as he bit out, “Don’t judge them.” This was an argument that they’d had too many times. “You don’t know why they weren’t fighting.”</p><p>He was tired. They both were.</p><p>No matter how many times they’d had this argument, neither of them could let it go. They both had to be right. They both had to prove that they were validated in how they chose to grieve and they did that through this exact argument. Ron wanted to move on, as best as he could, and Hermione, for whatever reason, just couldn’t. Not yet.</p><p>“Oh I can’t, Ron? I can’t wish that someone else had stepped in? Someone that was older than us, knew more than we did?”</p><p>Ron continued to shake his head and walked past her to the kitchen. Usually, they both grew quiet after this part. One of them would let it go because they’d had a long day. But, Hermione wasn’t going to let it go this time.</p><p>“We gave up our bloody childhoods for that war. I gave up my parents. My fucking skin. And what? They just get to feel okay about it by thanking us?”</p><p>Ron whipped around, “You’re not the only one with scars, Hermione! You aren’t the only one who fucking sacrificed for this. People died, Hermione. And you didn’t and at some point you have to learn to live with that.”</p><p>Ron was visibly trying not to shake, keeping his limbs stiff at his side. He took a deep breath, his chest filling in his striped sweater. Hermione wasn’t sure when he’d lost that weight and why she hadn’t noticed. She bit her tongue and looked away from him to pick up her robes. It missed the notch on the coat rack. Not once but twice and that was one more time than she could handle. She let out a loud groan, letting her robes fall back on the ground.</p><p>“I’m going to make you some tea.” and then under his breath so she couldn’t hear, “Maybe that’ll make you get a fucking grip.”</p><p>Hermione didn’t hear him, but he heard her kick off her shoes. They both knew that she was closing in on acting childish, something that Hermione hated in other people and herself, but it didn’t seem like she cared at the moment. Under her breath she scoffed, “I don’t want tea.”</p><p>Ron threw the teacup to the ground and it shattered, sending red and gold bits of china across the tiled kitchen floor. He was so sick of trying and failing and trying and failing, “I don’t know what to do for you! I don’t know how to make this better.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Me either.”</p><p>Her back suddenly hit the wall behind her as her knees gave out and she slid down to the floor. Hermione had felt figuratively deflated, but now her body seemed to feel the impulse to mirror her emotions.</p><p>Ron groaned and walked across the room to sit on the couch and put his head in his hands. It had been a while since she’d seen him looking this lost.</p><p>“When was the last time either of us did anything right?”</p><p>“You made me tea this morning.”</p><p>A guttural sound came out of Ron’s throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “That was not very romantic, though, now was it?”</p><p>Oh. She thought back to that morning when she’d walked out to the kitchen to see a steaming mug and the latest issue of the Prophet on the counter, “You placed a warming charm on it. That was thoughtful.” The last sentence came out wistfully, as if she wanted to believe it but didn’t. They both winced simultaneously.</p><p>“I don’t want to lose you.” He picked his head up out of his hands now to look at her. His eyes rimmed red, but she couldn’t really pinpoint when or if he’d started crying. Just another thing she hadn’t bothered to notice.</p><p>Now her head fell to her knees, “I don’t want to lose you either –”</p><p>“– But this isn’t working. Not like this.”</p><p>If she closed her eyes tight enough maybe she could pretend that this wasn’t happening. That they could rewind the past year and a half and go back to when it had been less complicated and they both were more committed (or maybe more naive?).</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>She didn’t trust herself to say anything more, to not say all that she’d been thinking over the past year, over the past 3.</p><p>“We’re not happy anymore, Hermione. And, honestly, I’m starting to wonder if we ever were?” Ron’s voice broke over the last two words, “Hermione, I really want to be happy. I think it’s really time that we’re both happy?”</p><p>Another question, like he wasn’t sure whether they deserved it, whether he deserved it. The fact that he wasn’t sure broke Hermione more than anything else that he’d said, “Of course you deserve that, Ron. I just – I’m trying okay? I’m really trying!”</p><p>“Hermione.” He gulped, “Neither of us should have to try this hard. Harry told me that you’ll talk to him. Like actually talk to him, but you won’t talk to me. And I mean I don’t really talk to you either but isn’t that bad? Shouldn’t we want to talk to each other first?”</p><p>Ron’s words had started to come out faster. He was getting more desperate, for her to understand, for her to swoop in to save the day, save them, like she always did.</p><p>She didn’t answer him. Not right away. They sat there again for a few moments and she felt like she was drowning. “The –” She moved her jaw, the way that her parents told her not to because she could dislocate it, and breathed, “The last time I told you something, you left. I didn’t want you to leave again so I didn’t tell you anything.”</p><p>“Yeah. I did. But I apologized afterwards?”</p><p>Hermione’s dark eyes had turned to steel in front of him. For the past few minutes she’d let her guard down in front of him, which she hadn’t done (not really anyways) since they were on a beach in the middle of nowhere, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”</p><p>Ron didn’t have a response to that one. He leaned against the counter and stared at the ceiling. Maybe someone up there would have answers for how they could fix this.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“That was your point, though. Wasn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They both fell asleep in the living room. Hermione in the outrageously plaid, stuffed chair that George had given them after they cleaned out Fred’s room. Ron on their couch that they’d equally stained with coffee after late nights doing work.</p><p>Ron had cried twice more before they’d fallen asleep. She hadn’t known how desperate he felt to save them. She hadn’t known that they needed saving. Hermione played with the frays around the blanket on top of her. Molly had really outdone herself with this one. She’d woven the orange, yellow, and purple together so beautifully. If they broke up, who would get the blanket?</p><p>“Ron?”</p><p>He groaned and flipped around on the couch, his long limbs splaying over the side. One of his socks had fallen off in his sleep. Hermione wasn’t sure how that was possible, but a fond smile took over her face. She really didn’t want to lose him, “Ron!”</p><p>“Whaa?” He opened his left eye, squinting at the morning light that beamed through their windows. “‘Ermione, I’m sleeping.”</p><p>“How do we tell Harry?” She pulled the blanket up over her nose. That was the question that had really been plaguing her. Harry was their best friend. How would he react when they told him they were splitting? Would he feel like he’d have to pick sides? He’d have to choose Ron, of course. Harry and Ginny were married, Ron was Harry’s brother now. Hermione was just Hermione.</p><p>“I don’t know. Do you reckon we could just owl him -- ow! Not cool.” Hermione had thrown a pillow at his head.</p><p>“Ron, you know we can’t owl him.”</p><p>“I know,” he dragged out as he sat up on the couch. “Even though I kind of want to.”</p><p>“Ha! See it wasn’t that bad of an idea.”</p><p>Another fond smile, “No, it wasn’t an awful idea.”</p><p>Ron grinned up at her as he pulled on his missing sock. It had gone under the coffee table somehow. They stayed like that for a moment. Hermione’s hair falling out of the bun she’d slung it up in last night. Ron’s sweater crinkled like an accordion from sleep. Then his eyes dropped to the ground and she let out a sigh. Maybe it wouldn’t be so simple.</p><p>He cleared his throat and got up to stretch, “Uhm, why don’t we invite him over for dinner or something?” Hermione pretended to not notice how his sweater hiked up, “I know Ginny has a match on the continent tomorrow, so she won’t be home tonight. And that bloke doesn’t make plans with anyone but the three of us.”</p><p>Hermione let out a breathless laugh, “Yeah that sounds good. I’ll send Pig now to see if he can come.”</p><p>“Oh don’t worry about that,” he was in the kitchen now, putting the kettle on, “I have to drop some files off to him this morning and then we’re playing quidditch. I’ll just ask him then.”</p><p>Ron seemed lighter now. How did he manage that? Hermione felt like she’d been dragged further into the Black Lake than she’d already been the past three years. It was like he’d finally gotten something off his chest that had weighed him down for years. She had been that weight and the irony of that felt like a rock had dropped on top of her. Hadn’t Ginny said that Ron would hold Hermione back, not the other way around?</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Did you cook this, Mione?” Harry said, stuffing his face with roast chicken, “It’s loads better than what we had in the tent.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend as she set the butter dish back on the table, “Well we aren’t living in a tent anymore.” A pause, “Also, I might have finally gotten around to reading the cookbooks Molly gave me.”</p><p>The boys nodded appreciatively as they truly dug into their plates. Ron and Harry had not had time to go out and play quidditch together in months. It was nice for them to get to spend some time together, finally, outside of work and their family. But Ron had seemed a little off the entire time. Even now, Ron kept glancing at Hermione as she picked at her food. Harry, who it was well known was not a perceptive bloke, wondered if something was up.</p><p>“Uhm, so Harry we had something that we wanted to tell you,” Ron said after taking a too large gulp of his pumpkin juice.</p><p>Hermione’s hands were conspicuously under that table and Harry had not taken the time to look at them when she had set the table earlier. Dear Merlin if these two had off and gotten engaged, Harry was going to pass out and Ginny would murder him for not being conscious enough to ask the right questions.</p><p>“We’ve decided that it would be best if we took a break.” Ron managed to get out before looking at Hermione for confirmation.</p><p>“One that does not have an end,” Hermione added not unbitterly as she looked at Harry meaningfully.</p><p>“Oh.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is the first fic i'm ever posting. if ur reading this: hi! i'm happy you're here! i can't wait for you to follow me on this journey!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. how it was supposed to be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>harry &amp; ginny's life isn't perfect by any means. no, it wasn't perfect but it was theirs and they loved it. it was what was expected of them, yes, but it was also exactly what they wanted.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>May 4, 1998</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d come back to the Burrow early this afternoon. The survivors had spent the past two days searching the castle for those who had died in Battle, treating those who were wounded, and trying to pull themselves together enough to leave the horrors of the castle and the comfort of being able to get lost. Ginny had taken advantage of being able to get lost. Harry and Hermione had been busy, answering questions and helping the adults organize everyone. Her family was so in shock, they didn’t notice her sneaking off to the highest Astronomy Tower. So Ginny would sit there for hours, revelling in the wind’s ability to dampen her thoughts and pretend that she was on a broomstick. Her fantasies only lasted for a little while, but for those few moments she could think clearly for the first time in months. When those moments were gone, the scream of the wind was so loud that she could pretend to not hear her own sobs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry had tried to talk to her a few times, but she’d managed to evade him in the castle, “I have to go look after George.” “I think McGonagall is looking for you.” “My rounds are about to start with Luna.” He would let her go or accept her transparent lies with little fanfare and, every time, Ginny wasn’t sure if the hollow feeling in her chest that came after was from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when they managed to run into one another on the Burrow stairs, neither could disappear. They’d almost walked into each other. Almost no one had been able to look anyone else in the eyes since they got home. Fleur, Harry, and Hermione had made dinner without asking and, for once, her mum had said nothing. She’d only quietly patted each of her children’s heads before taking a plate to her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ginny, I–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, if you’re going to apologize to me don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked shocked, but Ginny had made up her mind yesterday, “I had to watch you die and,” her voice cracked just a smidge, “and, frankly, I don’t fancy ever watching that again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his mouth again, but Ginny wasn’t done, “so no, I don’t really want to hear you apologize right now,” she looked hard into his eyes, “I just really need someone to hold me and tell me it’s okay to feel relieved and ripped apart all at once.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry swallowed, then looked at her, as serious as she’d ever seen him. Putting a hand on her shoulder he said, “Ginny, it’s okay to be happy that this is all over and also feel like nothing in your life will ever be right again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>July 31, 1998</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An extra weight came onto his bed as the light was just starting to peak in through the windows, “Happy birthday, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked over Ginny’s head, pushing back her hair. Ron’s bed was empty, “It’d be a better morning if I could continue to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s your birthday. Mum has instructed us that you should be up and ready for breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Ron let you do the waking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it took a bit of convincing. I might have threatened to hex him and to also tell Hermione that he loves her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah well, I’m sure that went well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, she was. So they laid there together for a while, as the sun grew stronger and the noises outside the door a bit louder. He kissed her head and then her mouth lazily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She curled her fingers in his hair and held the side of his face, “I think tonight will be good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Your mum didn’t invite too many people did she? I just...there aren’t that many people to invite anymore but–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny shifted so she was looming over him now and she hit his shoulder lightly, “Harry, don’t say that. First of all, there are so many people that love you and would love to celebrate your birthday with you. Second of all, no. She only invited a few people: Hagrid, the Lovegoods, Professor McGonagall, Andromeda and Teddy, Neville. I heard Kingsley might stop by?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. That sounds good.” He didn’t want to meet her eyes, so Harry reached up to play with her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve lost a lot of people, but you haven’t lost us all and you never will. Okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked hard a few times and pulled his lips into his mouth, “Yeah,” his voice cracked, “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny laid down so that she was completely on top of him and somehow managed to finagle her arms under his body so she held him, “You’ll never lose me, Potter. You should get used to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s quick laugh turned very suddenly into sobs. Ginny casted a silencing spell on the door with a flick of her foot and held him tighter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>December 24, 1998</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry had decided that he wanted two radios: one that got all the wizarding stations and a muggle one. He thought muggles had better music anyways. Remus had told him once that his mother had thought the same, having this exact double radio setup in their home at Godric’s Hollow. Somehow, they’d been able to convince Mrs. Weasley that the 4 young adults should spend the afternoon of Christmas Eve together at Grimmauld Place. Hermione and Ron had gone out to do some last minute shopping, leaving Harry and Ginny to wrap the last few presents. Now, as the muggle radio played and snow fell outside, Harry and Ginny swayed. The presents they were supposed to be wrapping laid very much unwrapped across the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them was particularly gifted at dancing, though Ginny, Harry was sure, could outshine him on any dance floor. She was pressed up against his chest, gliding back and forth to the music with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Ginny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lifted her head, considering him. That look of hers made him nervous, like she was contemplating how to respond. Not exactly how you want someone to look at you when you say that you love them for the first real time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, they’d said it in passing before. Murmured into hair as they comforted one another, before he’d left for Auror training, when they separated at the end of Hogsmeade meetings, but never like this. Never with this much meaning and hard truth behind it and the words “in” and “with” left unsaid. Her expression relaxed and she let out...a little giggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long were you holding that in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked back at her, “Uhm-it’s probably been a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm...well, Harry if it was after July 1997 then you’re a little late to the party.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was messing with him and Harry rolled his eyes, “Well if I said the fall of 1997 then I wouldn’t be that far behind would I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny chuckled quietly and grew serious once again. “Oh, Harry. I love you too,” she said with a soft smile, lifting her hand to cup the side of his face. He happily leaned into it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed like that for a good while, revelling in each other's warmth. Harry and Ron had yet to figure out how to correctly balance the heat and air within the cold house. With a twirl, which she initiated herself, Ginny let out a full laugh, “Oh if only 10 year-old Ginny could see me now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I finally got the right boy to like me back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned down at her, “Excuse me, you got him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> you back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The space between them lasted only a few seconds after Ginny had spoken. Their kiss was soft and unrushed and not unlike any of their other kisses, but at the same time, very much unlike them at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We can do anything that we want!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the muggle radio screamed as the song changed from the comfortable ballad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny barked out a laugh, pushing back from Harry’s chest as he groaned, “That’s not really the mood that I was going for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She continued to laugh and started jumping up and down, “But, Harry! We can do anything that we want!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take back what I said about muggle music being better. Where’s Celestina when you need her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>April 2, 1999</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you would do this without talking to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny was pacing angrily around the kitchen in Grimmauld Place. Harry was suddenly glad that Ron and Hermione had decided to go out to dinner, “He’s my godson, Ginny, he’s my responsibility.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not everything is your responsibility, Harry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shut his eyes and tried to keep his hands from balling into fists, “Ginny. My parents died and my godfather couldn’t be there for me. I’m going to be there for Teddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s great, Harry. It really really is, but there’s a difference from being there for him and taking joint custody of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby </span>
  </em>
  <span>especially without talking to me about it!” She swung around the kitchen counter, waving her half-filled glass of pumpkin juice, “We’re going to live together after I graduate, right? Didn’t you think to ask me about how I felt about it? You just waited until I came home for Easter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry felt his jaw tighten and he opened his mouth to argue with her but, just at that moment, Ginny turned around. Her face looked so like it did two years ago, when they stood on the stairwell in the Burrow and he had made another decision for her. How he said he wouldn’t do it again. But he just had and, all of a sudden, Harry felt the fight fall right out of him, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I just. I’m not sure if I’m ready to be a parent or a parent-figure to someone, let alone someone as impressionable as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Harry, what if I fuck him up? What if we do something that Tonks and Remus would disapprove of? I cannot disappoint them like that, Harry, I just can’t.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached out, taking her hand in his. “For what it’s worth, Gin, I don’t think you could ever do anything to disappoint them. Tonks </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. You were so obviously her favorite.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slumped down in the chair beside him, letting her glass and head hit the tabletop hard enough to send Kreatcher popping in. Harry waved him off with a quick hand and the elf popped away. Ginny mumbled something into the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would tease you and say that Mione was Remus’s favorite but I would be so obviously lying it wouldn’t be worth it. He was always bragging about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, but it quickly faded, “Do you know how fucked up it is that Remus couldn’t be my godfather? There’s a law that came out of the Wizengamot that werewolves can’t adopt children. Gin, do you know how much better my life would have been if Remus had raised me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused, before asking quietly, “Is that why you were so dead set on taking on Teddy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Remus really could not be there for me, but I can be there for Teddy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a good person, Harry. I know people tell you that all the time, but it’s true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled at her and reached out for her hand. “Does this mean we’re going to be parents?” he teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny pulled her hand back, “Don’t get too excited. Mum will have my head if I start popping out babies before I’m married.” She caught herself, “Not that I want to get married right now. Or that I don’t want to get married. It’s just, you know, we’re young and,” she sputtered, before finishing lamely, “No pressure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry openly laughed then and Ginny cracked a relieved grin, “Absolutely no pressure at all. Except, of course, all of those hints your mum keeps dropping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny groaned and let her head hit the table again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>May 27, 2000</b>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny had been adamant that her wedding was going to be a low maintenance affair, no matter what her mother and sister-in-law wanted. There would, of course, be the big tent in the backyard and music and dancing, but they kept the guest list as short as possible. Harry was adamant that they would only invite people that would be willing to duel Harry </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ginny if they were not invited. Suffice to say, that list was short. When he’d explained this standard to her mother, Ginny thought that, for the first time in her life, Molly Weasley was second guessing whether her daughter should marry the Chosen One. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knock knock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny turned from the vanity that had taken the spot of Hermione’s bed in their bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not too late, you know. You could high tail it out of here, and I’d help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny snorted, “Hermione–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s my best friend. It doesn’t matter that you’ve loved him since you were 10. We can leave right now and never look back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny hit her friend with a pointed look and Hermione’s face quickly turned from teasing to something that neared realization back to smiling, “Sorry. I’ve seen that play out in a few muggle books and movies and thought I’d try it out for myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Movie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never mind,” Hermione said with a wave of her hand, “Do you feel ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready for Auntie Muriel to leave me alone until the next wedding? Absolutely. Ready to marry Harry? I think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione laughed at that, “Don’t even get my started on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Auntie Muriel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That woman is even worse than she was at Bill’s wedding.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry considered himself lucky in that he had seen some pretty astounding things in his life and he had had some astounding things happen to him. He got to spend a few years with his parents’ closest friends. He’d felt the thrill of riding a dragon (whose sole purpose was not to attack him). He’d met two people that were willing to follow him into war and back. Yes, Harry considered himself pretty lucky, but the pure high he felt when he saw Ginny walking towards him was even better than Felix Felicis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her dress wasn’t the big poofy things Harry had seen in muggle magazines. It was flowy and made of lace and Fleur had managed to arrange wildflowers down the plait in Ginny’s hair. She was stunning. And she was going to marry him. And they were going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the song that they dance to is because we want to by billie piper, if anyone is ~interested~. thanks for reading along!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. pranksters: two sets of twins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>arthur pays george a visit in the days after the battle.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>May 11, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George hadn’t slept in over a week. His family had tried to help, of course. Charlie had brewed him a number of sleeping draughts that wouldn’t allow him to dream. Charlie had assured him of that, but George was, frankly, too scared to try them. There weren’t many times that George had fancied himself actually scared in his life; once or twice when he was young, a few times at Hogwarts, but he could count all incidents on his fingers. For the first time in his life, though, George was scared to sleep. Scared of what his dreams would be. Scared of what it would mean if he did sleep peacefully. So, every night, he poured the draughts Charlie had made him silently out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a light knock at his door, but George didn’t answer. He stayed on his side, staring at the wall just above Fred’s bed. The door opened and a soft glow entered the room, “Georgie? I brought you supper.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father set the dinner plate on the desk, hand gliding over his son’s hair as he passed. They’d done this routine every evening since the family had returned to the Burrow. Bill would bring his breakfast, Charlie his lunch and sleeping draught, and his dad would bring his dinner. All three men tried to make conversation with George, but none of them had been successful thus far. All they did was ask about how he was feeling, if he’d showered that day, if he’d heard from Lee or Angelina or Alicia or Katie. George did not really want to answer any of these questions. So he didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, though, Arthur Weasley did not continue to stand above his son. He did not make his way quietly to the door after a failed attempt to get an answer to any of the three questions. Instead, for the first time in a very long time, he sat down on his son’s bed and looked intensely at George, “Did your mother ever tell you much about her brothers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George slowly shook his head, confused at a number of things. His mother hadn’t really come to see him and he hadn’t sought her out. They were both too deep in their own grief to say anything to one another. George knew, from overheard conversations in the stairwell, that she wasn’t cooking, that she’d barely left her own bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course you know that we named you and Fred after them, Fabian and Gideon. They were good blokes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sat up against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest, “I know that they died during the first war.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might have been the first time he’d spoken in days. His voice was crackly. Arthur levitated the cup of pumpkin juice over to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They died before most were even willing to call it a war. They did, though. It drove your mother mad; she thought they were joking, didn’t understand the real consequences of what they were doing. Of course, they did, though. You and Fred were a lot like them at Hogwarts. I have a sneaking suspicion that’s why she was so hard on you boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father had said it casually, but there was a harsh truth to his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pranking didn’t get them killed, though, did it?” George said, unable to help his lingering bitterness from seeping through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it didn’t, but they had nerve, they did and your mother thinks that’s what got them. Now that’s a Prewett gene that you and Fred both inherited.” Arthur tried to smile as he looked at his son, the sallowness that covered his skin and the true emptiness in his eyes, “It’s a good trait, Georgie. Don’t let it leave you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stared back at his father, not willing to make that promise. Arthur sighed before continuing, finding himself a little more grateful that this son inherited his dark blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Prewetts, much like the Weasleys, were always sorted into Gryffindor. No one was surprised when Fabian and Gideon were sorted in, but they caused trouble right away. Now they were a good few years younger than your mother and I, but I still remember the ruckus they caused on their first day at Hogwarts. Minerva was passing out the schedules when a series of dungbombs went off in the hallway,” Arthur chuckled quietly at the memory, “There were so many of them, we were all late for classes and poor Derek McClellan couldn’t get the smell out of his robes for a week, and, mind you, he was a 6th year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course no one could prove it was them, they hadn’t made a name for themselves, nor did they ever, officially. Back in those days, they were still allowing corporal punishment at the castle. Old Apollyon Pringle was quick with the stick,” Arthur gestured to his right leg where the old grouch had gotten in when he was 16, “and Fabian and Gideon were too smart to risk a flogging once they got on the quidditch team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s eyebrows raised a bit before he felt guilty for forgetting himself, but Arthur caught it, “Oh, yes. They were on the quidditch team. Pretty good too, though I didn’t get to see them play for more than a year. Gideon was seeker, like Charlie, and Fabian was chaser, like Ginny. Your mother was sure they’d charmed the captain into letting them on the team as 3rd years. Back then, the school was much larger and quidditch tryouts were,” he whistled low, “quite competitive, to say the least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur sighed and stared at a spot on the floor for a moment, shaking his head, “Yes, well, they joined the Order straight out of school. It was the first couple years of the war and no one had any real idea what they were doing. Your mother and I had just had Bill, and then Charlie, and we didn’t want to risk this perfect family that we were building. Your mother tried to dissuade them from joining, but they wouldn’t hear of it,” Arthur looked back at the floor and took a long breath, “Knowing what I know now, I don’t blame them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember the day that they died. They stopped for dinner here before they went out on a raid. Charlie broke his arm because they took him out on that toy broom and let him go just a bit too high. Of course, we fixed it right up but your mother was furious. She gave them a right talking to before kicking them out. Said that they shouldn’t come back until they could figure out how to responsibly handle children. They hadn’t said they were going on a raid at this point. Your poor mother had no idea that was the last time she’d see them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George watched as his dad seemed to sweep away to another moment in time. He waited as it passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The way Mad-Eye told it, Fabian and Gideon were supposed to gather intel on a house. They thought it might’ve been a hideout for Death Eaters. Of course, it was and, of course, Fabian and Gideon thought they could be in and out; apprehend the Death Eaters and then go apologize to their sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George watched as his father fiddled with the watch on his wrist, pausing again. His hair had more grey than George remembered. He wondered if he would ever have to tell someone about Fred’s death. His father looked up and George looked away, down to the floor boards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took 5 Death Eaters to take them down. They were fearless and strong, and also incredibly stupid. Five against two and the Death Eaters still barely made it out alive. You and Fred were born about a month later. When we realized that you were twins, well, it felt like fate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t force himself to look back at his father. His parents had so rarely spoken of his uncles. They sat in silence for a while. One thought about the past and how he could have acted differently. The other wondered how his family would get through the next week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, (or what seemed like suddenly to George, who was lost in thought) Arthur pushed himself off of Fred’s bed and patted his son’s knee before walking to the door, “I’ve owled Lee. He’ll be here in the morning. It’ll be nice to have another body around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded slowly, “Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, son?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fred would’ve liked to hear that story.” A beat. “I think this is the first time you’ve talked to me alone like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur stepped back a little, feeling the truth in George’s words, “Well.” His voice caught in his throat, “For that, my boy, I am more sorry than you could ever imagine.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks to everyone for tuning in :) i hope u all had / will have a happy holiday. next week, we'll dive a bit deeper now that we've set everything up. xoxo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. comfort gone wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ron tries to comfort hermione. hermione tries to comfort wrong. neither of them is particularly good at it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: mentions of torture</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>May 8, 1998.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Red jets of light crossed her lids and a feeling that a thousand blast-ended skrewts had taken nest underneath her skin, but she had to keep running. She had to keep running, but the echoes of a shrieking laughter, one she was afraid that she’d never not recognize, followed her, “Oh, don’t run away, deary! I’m just here for a little fun.”</p><p>She didn’t listen. Why would she? Instead, Hermione ran down the dark halls, taking as many turns as she could, trying to get away from the laughter, from the cold, from the smell, from the pain. There was nothing to distinguish the place she was in as Malfoy Manor, but she knew that was where she was. The feeling, the strange dampness, it was all the same. </p><p>The laughter was gaining on her, growing louder and sharper, “Oh we’re playing games are we? I love a game!”</p><p>Hermione took another turn, skidding around the corner of the wall and...into a dead end.</p><p>“No. No. No.”</p><p>Her hands frantically felt the wall for a latch, a door knob, something, but her clammy hands felt nothing but cool stone.</p><p>“There you are, deary.”</p><p>Hermione froze.</p><p>“I see the game’s over now? How sad. <em> Cruc–” </em></p><p>There was a blinding light and she felt it again. Her bones felt like they were shattering, all of her nerve endings on fire. She couldn’t stop herself from screaming and falling against the wall behind her. The darkened figure walked closer to her, almost reaching the candlelight.</p><p>“Hermione.” </p><p>She was breathing hard when she opened her eyes and she felt the stickiness of dried sweat and tears on her face. This was a nicer dark than the one in her dream. It was warmer, but it was still dark. And Hermione didn’t know if she could trust the dark anymore.</p><p>A hand touched her face and Hermione jerked back.</p><p>“Hermione, it’s me.” Harry. It was just Harry. </p><p>Her body lost all of its stiffness as she collapsed into his chest. For the first time in months, Hermione cried. </p><p>“She almost got me, Harry. She almost got me.” </p><p>Hermione shook against his chest as Harry held her, “She’s dead, Hermione. She can’t get you now.” </p><p>Behind Harry, Ginny sat up in her bed, face streaked with her own tears. Ginny watched on as two of her best friends gripped each other like they’d disappear if one of them let go. In that moment, Ginny wondered for the first time since the Battle what it had been like for those two in the months that they’d been gone. Ginny laid back down in her bed, letting the whispers of her friends lull her back to sleep. </p><p>An hour later, she felt Harry’s warm body sidle up next to her. His arms snaked around her stomach and he sighed shakily into her hair. If Ginny was more awake, she’d have been able to say for sure whether or not she felt the hair above her ear get wet. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>In the dark, Hermione made out the deep red of Ginny’s hair that had somehow found its way into Harry’s open mouth. It didn’t look like it was a comfortable position, the two of them wound around one another in Ginny’s single bed, but Harry’s presence hadn’t been only for Ginny’s comfort. Hermione and Harry had not slept more than 10 feet apart since last summer and neither had been particularly willing to break that streak once they’d settled back into the Burrow a few days ago. </p><p>Her breathing had slowed a tad. The pain in her limbs had subsided a bit. Harry had been able to coax her back into an uneasy sleep for a few more hours, but it wasn’t bound to last. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up to one of her nightmares. She’s been woken up to a fair share of his. But looking at Harry and Ginny, curled into one another in a way that was most definitely not for warmth (it was May after all), Hermione wondered if Harry should still be the person she sought. </p><p>She sighed to herself, with the strange feeling that she was about to undergo a breakup with her best friend. Surely it wouldn’t be appropriate for this arrangement to continue as the rest of the world turned on. And the rest of the world was turning on. Kingsley had come by yesterday to ask Ron, Harry, and Hermione to consider joining the Aurors at the end of the summer. None of them had had the energy to even sound excited at the prospect and Harry had been the only one able to thank Kingsley for his offer.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>May 12, 1998. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The jets of light came again and Hermione woke, panicked at the tightness around her body. It took her a few seconds to realize she’d wrapped herself into a cocoon of bed sheets. She only noticed she was shaking when Harry’s warm hand came down to steady her. He held her in place until her breathing evened out. In silence they worked together to undo her wrappings. </p><p>They sat together at the edge of Hermione’s bed for a few minutes before she could find the words, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Now what do you have to be sorry for?” Hermione knew that voice. He used it to talk to Teddy.</p><p>“I keep waking you and Ginny up. It’s hard enough for her to get sleep as it is. I think --” she gulped, “I think I’m going to go up to Ron’s room.”</p><p>Harry did not have the energy to hide the surprise in his eyes, “Oh. Okay. Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yeah. Go back to sleep, Harry.”</p><p>She stood up, sheets still wrapped around her and tried to sneak out of the room. Ginny hadn’t woken up this time, but next time she might. Hermione tried to climb the stairs as quietly as she could. It couldn’t be past 3 in the morning. As she passed the twins’ room, she heard quiet sobs and Lee’s whispering tones, “It’s okay. I know, I know.”</p><p>Hermione picked up her pace, unwilling to allow her brain to pause on the utter sadness and devastation that lay in the other room. She knocked quietly on Ron’s door before pushing it open.</p><p>“Whaa? Hermione? Are you okay?”</p><p>Ron squinted up at her from his bed. His hair sticking up at odd angles. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t yet been able to leave her room so the children’s hair was still longer than any of them liked. The scars across Ron’s arms seemed to shine in light from Hermione’s wand. It all very much reminded her of a lion.</p><p>“Uhm, can I sleep here?”</p><p>Ron shook his head, like he wasn’t sure that he’d heard her. Right as Hermione was about to change her mind and had convinced herself she could walk past the twins’ door a second time, determined to cast a silencing spell this time, Ron said, “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Get in.”</p><p>They had never slept in the same bed before. It was awkward and neither knew where to put their limbs. But she felt a little better. Maybe. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>May 13, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione! Hermione!”</p><p>This time when she woke up, it wasn’t to Harry’s calming voice. Ron was shaking her, sounding as frightened as she felt. His arms were cold and the flash in his eyes was too familiar on another face.  She crawled out of his grasp, gripping her arm until her fingernails started to draw blood, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”</p><p>Her words were obviously to comfort him because they were not true at all. Hermione felt her face contort unwillingly as she tried to catch her breath and tears clouded her eyes. She felt Bellatrix’s cold hands wrap around her arm, her warm, putrid breath on her neck, how it didn’t matter if she was telling the truth because the truth didn’t matter. The truth never seemed to matter if no one believed it. Goodness didn’t matter because even if Voldemort was dead, so was Fred and Remus and Tonks and Lavendar and fucking Colin Creevey. Little Colin Creevey. Hermione’s entire body shuddered and she cried harder.</p><p>Ron stared at her, afraid to touch her. If he touched her, she might break. If he touched her, this would be real and not a bad dream. Hermione, the infallible Hermione, would be shattered before him. Instead of touching her, instead of trying to find the words, Ron stood up from the bed and muttered, “I’ll go make you some tea.” </p><p>He was still barely awake, going through the motions to find the tea in the top kitchen cabinet, boiling the water, trying to find the least offensively-colorful mug. On his way back up the stairs, Ron was so barely awake that he didn’t realize Lee’s soothing words were Harry’s until he got back to his room, tea in hand, to find his bed empty. </p><p>She came back after an hour, slipping in next to him. Ron pretended to be asleep but he knew that Hermione’s body was stiff next to him. When he woke up the next morning, she’s sitting on the floor next to his bed reading. She slept in his bed again that night, but when he went to get her tea at 3 am and she left to go to Harry, she didn't come back.</p><p>Ron goes to check on her that morning, he does. He’s about to knock on the door, quietly, just as she had done, and then he spots one of Charlies’ potion bottles. It’s empty, sans for a few drops of the sleeping potion. Sighing, he turns away and starts back up to his own bed, only a little horrified at the relief bubbling in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>June 13, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>To say that either Harry, Hermione, or Ron were particularly fond of Draco Malfoy would have been a gross exaggeration. But, he did make it hard for Bellatrix to identify them in the Manor. And Narcissa had saved Harry’s life. Therefore the Ministry felt it necessary to subpoena the three of them for the Malfoy trial. Some were less bothered by this than others (“He deserves a fair trial.” “What does that have to do with–” “He can’t have a fair trial without all of the pertinent information, Ronald.”). </p><p>Harry went first, calmly laying out the events at the Manor and in the Forbidden Forest. He tried not to look at Ginny as he described his death. Ron went next, offering up his perspective on the Manor. An official asked if he had anything unique to offer that Hermione and Harry did not. Ron’s face went as red as his hair and his knuckles whiter than Harry thought his pale skin could go (Ron sat back down in his seat muttering, “Why did they fucking call me to the stand if they didn’t want to hear what I had to say.”). Hermione went last of the three. It wasn’t as horrific as she thought that it would be (she’d practiced in her head the past few nights after she couldn’t (wouldn’t) fall asleep). Then Kinglsey asked if she would submit her memories and Hermione felt her entire being turn to stone.</p><p>“You did not ask Ron and Harry for their memories.”</p><p>Kingsley cleared his throat, “All witnesses are expected to submit their memories of events in this case. Most will be public record, but the Wizengmont thought it best to offer you to submit them privately.” Not unkindly he added, “It was in the documents we sent over.”</p><p>The first time in her life that she didn’t run through a text with a fine tooth comb and this is what she gets, “Fine. Yes. I’ll submit them privately.”</p><p>Kingsley had barely dismissed her from the stand before Hermione was out of her chair, thinking that she was heading back to her seat between Ron and Harry. It was right in front of her, not 3 meters away, but her feet didn’t stop and she couldn’t bring herself to look at her friends as she passed them. She heard Kingsley call George’s name as she walked out of the room and she didn’t stop in the empty hallway, she didn’t stop when she felt her chest constrict or when her eyes turned wet. Not when she apparated to Grimmauld Place (why the fuck she thought to go there, she had no idea, except that the last time she was at the Ministry, that was where she went). No, Hermione’s feet didn’t stop until she was outside Sirius’ childhood home, somewhere in the middle of London, in a park that was still in its early morning haze, and she’d walked in circles long enough for her breath to even out. Then, she sat down on a bench and watched the grass sway in the wind, hoping for something to come and distract her.</p><p>Much to Hermione’s disappointment, she didn’t see any insects land or crawl on any of the blades in front of her. She wondered if she willed them to appear, they would (and, also, whether this was her punishment for keeping a beetle animagus locked in a jar for the better part of a year). But a pair of worn brown shoes did show up in front of the blades of grass, with a ginger boy attached to them.</p><p>“You’re going to have to go back y’know, to submit your memories.” There was an edge to his voice.</p><p>“I figured.”</p><p>She thought they’d be able to sit in silence for a while, but she’d underestimated Ron’s temper, “What the fuck were you thinking, Hermione? They almost had to strike your testimony from the record because you didn’t submit your memories right away.”</p><p>Hermione found herself laughing, of all things, “You didn’t even want us to testify! Why do you care?”</p><p>“That’s not true and you know it. You cared three days ago! So why did you just up and leave like that? And not tell anyone where you were going? We split up to find you! Ginny’s back home, Dad’s scavenging the Ministry, Harry’s at your parents house–”</p><p>It was like he’d thrown a bucket of cold water on her. “Don’t talk about my parents, Ronald.”</p><p>“No,” He shook his head at her, balling his hands into fists. She knew he was trying to stop himself from tugging on his robes, like he always did when he was angry. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to almost upturn a legal trial for <em> no </em> reason and then <em> find </em> reason to be mad at me.” </p><p>His hands fell out of their fists and pulled on his new robes (the ones that Fred and George had bought him were long gone after they’d disapparated from Bill’s wedding) as he enunciated the last few words. Hermione couldn’t help but bitterly notice that Ron was as immaculately dressed as she had ever seen him. She knew that he had Arthur help him shine his shoes the night before, that he’d taken his time putting on his dress robes (And, to be fair, Ron had, actually, spent quite a long time getting dressed. Although, it was because he was remembering this was the first time he’d be leaving the Burrow since the Battle. Because Ron knew what it was the beginning and end of and he wasn’t quite ready for either).</p><p>Of course Hermione didn’t know any of that and a bitter taste started building up in her mouth. She hadn’t slept without a potion in weeks and hadn’t been able to find the will to look nice for her school bully’s criminal trial. A criminal trial where she had to submit memories of being tortured.</p><p>She bit out, “I didn’t know that I was going to have to submit my memories.”</p><p>Hermione saw how his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, “What do you mean you didn’t know? You didn’t read–”</p><p>“No, Ron. I didn’t.” Her hand hit the stone bench hard beneath her, “I didn’t. I can’t get through Jane fucking Austen right now so no I did not read the 20 inch piece of parchment the Ministry sent two days ago.”</p><p>He shook his head, “Hermione, what are you talking about? We’ve written essays longer than that for class. It took me only–”</p><p>“Well we can’t all be like <em> you </em>, Ron.” He looked away from her then, as she tried to bore her eyes into his skull, “Merlin, how are you not dying inside right now?!”</p><p>Ron’s head whipped up and it looked like his blue eyes were made of ice, “Fuck you, Hermione.” He walked down the path a ways before rounding back on her, “How dare you say that to me. My brother <em> died </em>. Fred is dead and George is a fucking wreck and so are you and so is Percy and Mum and Dad and Ginny and is it really so bad that I’m not visibly falling apart at the seams?”</p><p>Hermione knew that ‘falling apart at the seams’ was a fair description of what she had become. Whenever she looked in the mirror, she was surprised at the person that stared back at her. </p><p>When Hermione was younger, she, Parvati, and Lavender would stare at themselves in the mirror and say daily affirmations. It had felt a little silly at first, a way to get Parvati and Lavender to not despise her, but it had helped; after a while it had made her like herself a little more.</p><p>She’d thought about trying it again, once, but in the ten seconds before Ginny beat on the door (Mione, hurry the fuck up! I’m literally going to urinate on the stairs if you do not come out right now!), she couldn’t think of anything to say. There hadn’t been time to try again, not without someone hearing her.  </p><p>She didn’t say any of this to Ron. No, instead she stared back at him and Ron’s voice grew smaller, “Is it really so bad that I took 30 minutes to read a Ministry document for trial that <em> you </em> convinced me to be a part of? Where I have to defend Draco fucking Malfoy? Of all people?” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>He knew she wanted to say something, that she probably wanted to ask him to show more emotion just as he wanted to ask her to show less. That she wanted to apologize just as much as he did, “And it’s all because of people bigger and badder than that twat were like, ‘Hey, let’s try that genocide thing. Seems cool!’”</p><p>He sunk next to her on the bench, letting a glimmer of exhaustion show, “Jessie's Crisps.”</p><p>Hermione let out something that was between a cough and a laugh, “Jesus Christ.” </p><p>“That’s it,” he grumbled.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Ron took her hand, rubbing his thumb over hers, “Me too.”</p><p>“What you said wasn’t wrong.”</p><p>“What you said wasn’t either.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>May 31, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The main story of the <em> Daily Prophet </em> the next morning was about the Malfoys’ trial, but below the fold was a picture of Ron and Hermione leaning against one another on the bench. Their headline read, “Wedding Bells?: War Heroes Ron Weasley &amp; Hermione Granger Snuggle Up After Trial.” </p><p>Ginny had laughed out loud when the owl dropped it off at the breakfast table. “That’s a riot, isn’t it?”<br/>
Mr. Weasley hit her with a pointed look, to which Ginny took offense, “Well, isn’t it? They’re barely 18. Even Harry’s parents didn’t get married until they were 19 and that was at the height of the war.”</p><p>At this, it was Harry’s turn to look offended. Ginny grabbed his arm, gently, “I’m just saying that they should give it a minute before calling marriage; at least until Hermione and I graduate.”</p><p>“Oh, a double wedding! How lovely!” Mrs. Weasley crooned as she placed some fresh scones on the table.</p><p>Hermione tried to forget that she was turning 19 in three months and smiled weakly. Ron patted her knee under the table, looking just as awkward as she felt, but he didn’t say anything. She lightly pushed him away. </p><p>“Mum, that’s not what I meant and you know it!”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>October 15, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m so sorry, but Harry and I won’t be able to make it to Hogsmeade this weekend. We got called in on a raid, which is exciting really. It’ll be our first one. Tenson (that’s the new Head Auror) said that if we do well, we might get added on to more. There aren’t too many happening now, most happened in the weeks after the Battle, but some Death Eaters have tried to go deep into hiding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ginny’s getting a similar letter from Harry, so it might be best to stay out of her way for a bit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ron </em>
</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>October 17, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Ron, </em>
</p><p> </p><p> <em>I apologize for my late reply! No worries about you missing Hogsmeade. I went with Ginny and Luna. Neville met up with us, as well. How did the raid go?</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Best, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione </em>
</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>October 21, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Harry, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is everything all right? Ron hasn’t answered my last letter, nor any of my follow ups. How did the raid go? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Love, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione </em>
</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>October 22, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mione, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Not well. We’re both physically alright, though, so don’t worry there. The raid was just more than anyone bargained for. Ron bore the brunt of it. Maybe just let him cool off for a few more days? I’m sure he’ll tell you about it soon enough.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Have you gotten any more information out of Flitwick? I was hoping to hear about it last weekend, but you know.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Harry </em>
</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>December 23, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry had asked her to move in earlier today, not 2 minutes after she got off the train at Kings Cross. They had talked about it multiple times in the past couple of weeks; that she couldn’t continue living at the Burrow once she graduated and it would be silly for her to get an apartment by herself when Ron was living with Harry (and Ginny would be too) and there were so many guest rooms at Grimmauld Place. </p><p>They’d spent the past five months cleaning up the old house and it was finally becoming something to them aside from Sirius’ childhood home and the Order’s meeting place. It was starting to take shape in Harry’s interior decorating style, which oddly included a lot of tartan (The first time Ron had commented that McGonagall would be proud, he was hit right upside the head).</p><p>“How’s Auror training going?”</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to answer her around the roll he’d just stuffed in it but Ron cut in before Harry could start mumbling, “Like the DA but thirty times more intense.”</p><p>Managing to swallow, Harry got out, “Last week they had us help with a raid on some Death Eater’s home,” he took a swig of pumpkin juice, “But that’s about as much action we get They mostly have us running drills at the training facility and guarding defendants before trial. We’re both doing quite well, though.”</p><p>Hermione smiled, genuinely, “Really? Oh that’s great. Top of the class?” She said the last bit teasingly, though Ron suspected that she wasn’t kidding.</p><p>“Mhm,” Harry muffled around a deep draw of pumpkin juice.</p><p>Ron’s silverware clattered to the floor, the fork sliding into a grate in the floor, “Oh shit.”</p><p>Hermione waved him off, “I’ll go get another set from the kitchen. Harry, do you have any muggle sodas? I’ve been wanting one for months.”</p><p>“Yes, actually! They’re down in the cellar.”</p><p>She smiled at them lightly and walked into the kitchen, “Oh hello, Kreacher.”</p><p>As soon as the door swung close behind her and Hermione’s conversation with the elf was muffled, Ron turned to Harry, “Can you maybe not mention to Hermione how we’re doing in training?” </p><p>Harry looked at him a little confused, “Why? It’s hard, I mean neither of us are like top of the class physically, nothing to be ashamed about. We were malnourished for a year and then in mourning for 3 months. It’s to be expected.”</p><p>Harry’s description of them <em> both </em> not being at the top of the class was generous. Harry was excelling at every aspect except the physical part. But he was fast where he wasn’t strong and, frankly, Ron was not either of those things. He wasn’t at the bottom of the class, but Ron was a <em> war hero </em>. At the beginning of training, the other trainees had looked to him and Harry as examples. They’d stopped looking at him after their first mission in October.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ron absentmindedly rubbed the top of his lip, looking away from his friend, “I just–the last time that I couldn’t handle something, I left her. I left you both. I want to show her that I won’t do that again, that I can stay when it gets hard.”</p><p>“Ron, she knows that.”</p><p>His eyes cut back to meet Harry’s green ones and he knew that he sounded like he was pleading when he said, “Does she? I certainly don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>July 1, 1999</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The last time he had tried to comfort her, she’d told him to leave and they had gotten into a fight and he didn’t want to fight. She’d yelled at him and then cried and after she had apologized and said she just didn’t want Ron to see her like that. So this time, when Hermione tossed and turned and mumbled in her sleep, Ron lay still. He felt her wake up next to him, breathing very quickly. He felt her sit up in bed and heard her gulp air through sobs. </p><p>It was hard to keep his breathing even. It was harder to not sit up and ask her what was wrong, but that was a stupid question and she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d said so on numerous occasions. So Ron laid in bed, pretending to be asleep, until his girlfriend laid back down next to him and did the same. When he felt her body relax as she went back to some version of sleep, he finally uncurled his fists and gave his body permission to do the same.</p><p>He’d try to talk to her in the morning. Or maybe she’d tell Harry about her dream. He knew better than to prod. Last time, she’d pointed out that he didn’t tell her why he kind of but not really avoided George or where the scar above his lip had come from. No, this wasn’t a fight that he wanted to have because he knew that he’d lose.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for sticking along &lt;3 we'll start to pick up from here. hope everyone has had a happy holidays thus far xoxo</p><p>note: 1/25 i've been doing some thinking and have taken out the direct talk about the nazi allegory jkr did. it's harmful in a lot of ways and so i've decided to take that bit out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. the first weasley dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>it's the first weasley dinner since everyone has graduated hogwarts &amp; everyone is in attendance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>June 27, 1999</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t sure everyone was actually going to come,” Ginny muttered to her brother just outside the kitchen.</p><p>“Well none of us really fancied getting a howler tomorrow morn–ow!”</p><p>Mrs. Weasley threw the dishrag that had just whipped George upside the head, back over her shoulder, “That’s enough out of you!”</p><p>“That was my good ear, woman!”</p><p>“Then you should use it! I told all of you that I wanted you here every Sunday for dinner. Can you blame a mother? All of her children, grown! Out of the house! Is it too much to ask for dinner once a week?”</p><p>Appropriately chastised, George and Ginny scurried outside. Hermione chuckled under her breath so that she, too, did not feel Mrs. Weasley’s wrath. </p><p>“Do you think she’ll ever do that to us?” Harry conspiratorially whispered over her shoulder. </p><p>They were strategically standing on the opposite side of the living room by the front door that no one ever used. It had been a while since the two of them had had a proper chat.</p><p>“Honestly, I hope not. Do you remember in 4th year when she barely spoke to me? I do not want to go through that again.”</p><p>“Fair enough. Are you excited to start at the Ministry? I hear some good things about Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”</p><p>“I think so. Tartt said that I could start on the 5th, and–I don’t know Harry, it just feels right? It feels like the place where I can do the most. We’re not done fighting for things and I never really enjoyed the actual fighting aspect, but I’m good with books and logic and some of these laws are absolutely barbaric.”</p><p>Harry smiled at her then, a bit sadly, “Yeah, I know.” His jaw tightened, “Categorizing people as ‘creatures’. Not giving them rights.”</p><p>She looked away from him and out the window. In the yard, she could see George, Ginny, and Lee in a competition to see who could throw the gnomes the farthest (Ginny was obviously winning), “He deserved so much better.”</p><p>Hermione turned back to him when Harry lightly, intentionally, touched the outside of her arm, parallel to her scar, “We all did, Mione.”</p><p>She forced a small smile and jesting tone, “Ironic that you’re telling me that.”</p><p>Harry narrowed his eyes at her and Hermione knew that her joke had failed, “Hermi–”</p><p> She reached up for his hand that was still on her sleeve just as he opened his mouth to argue with her. She knew her hand landed right on top of <em> I must not tell lies </em>, which still stood out starkly against his skin, “Thank you, Harry.” </p><p>He pushed her away, playfully, “Stop doing that. George does it to Ginny and last time, I think she actually followed through and hexed him.”</p><p>Hermione felt her eyes go wide.</p><p>“I know. He had tentacles growing out of his ears for 5 minutes before she changed him back–come on it’s not that funny.”</p><p>She covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles, “Yes, it really is.” </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When Mrs. Weasley said that she insisted on all of her children being at dinner, she was not kidding. They had to eat outside to accommodate the entire family and Hermione found herself squeezed between Lee and Ginny and their argument about who <em> actually </em> has the better arm. Their bickering was oddly comforting, forming a warm bubble around her thoughts. </p><p>“Gin, I know you’re going to be a famous quidditch player and all, but c’mon.” Lee smirked, “You know I threw that gnome at least 70 feet.”</p><p>Ginny barked a laugh next to Hermione, her arm carelessly thrown over her friend’s chair, “Maybe in a <em> dream </em>, Lee. Tonight? You only threw it 20 feet, possibly 30.”</p><p>“C’mon, Hermione, tell Ginny she shouldn’t be spreading slander ‘round the dinner table.”</p><p>Hermione graciously moved the fork that Lee had pointed across her face at Ginny, “Oh stop it, you two.” </p><p>With the floating glasses with blue flames above their heads, and the setting sun, Hermione didn’t want to get in the middle of their argument. Charlie, Ron, Harry, and George were talking about how the Chudley Cannons were looking on the other side of the table. Percy continued to tell Fleur about his girlfriend, Audrey, whom Fleur had met on multiple occasions. When he wasn’t looking, Fleur would mime gagging to her husband, who was deep in conversation with his parents.</p><p>Mrs. Weasley had gone all out on the food and Hermione felt herself humming at her first bite of potatoes, “These might be better than the ones at Hogwarts. You know the ones, with the herbs and garlic?”</p><p>She’d partially said it because it was true, and also to stop Ginny and Lee from accidentally flinging said potatoes off their forks and into Hermione’s hair. It worked because both Ginny and Lee groaned in appreciation.</p><p>Lee dramatically threw his arms in the air, “Those were my absolute favorites.”</p><p>Ginny leaned down, trying to not be suspicious (and failing), to say, “Honestly, I think this food is better than what we had at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.” </p><p>The younger girl had tried to whisper the suspicion, but Fleur had walked past them at just that moment. Hermione had expected the bride in question to take offense, but she didn’t even stop her stride, coming up behind her sister-in-law whispering, “<em> Absolument </em>. Did you try that purple pudding? It was disgusting.” </p><p>Between Ginny’s face of shock and Fleur’s agreement, Hermione couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh.</p><p>Ginny regained her senses enough to choke out, “I think it had beets in it! Beets don’t belong in desserts!”</p><p>“Blasphemous,” Fleur grinned.</p><p>“I happen to like beets,” Lee cut in, “They help your upper-body strength. Not that you’d know anything about that, Ginny.”</p><p>Their bickering started again and Fleur breezed back into the Burrow. Hermione sighed in defeat, turning back to her potatoes. They really were delicious...though they were suddenly rearranged into a face with its tongue sticking out. Hermione’s gaze went straight to George.</p><p>The old glint of mirth that Hermione had enjoyed a few years ago was back. It was reserved, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she couldn’t blame him for that. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, and he raised his glass to her before turning back to Charlie and Harry and loudly saying, “All that said, we <em> know </em> that the Holyhead Harpies are going to smash everyone else in the league,” George nudged Harry, conspiratorially, “I hear they have a brilliant new chaser.”</p><p>Somehow, he’d picked just the right moment, when the chatter around the table had died down. Every glass went into the air as the Weasley family shouted together, “Hear! Hear!”</p><p>“Oh stop it, you lot!” But, as Ginny said this, a blush grew across her cheeks and she couldn’t hide her smile.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Ron had not had this much fun in years. They’d put away the table, but gathered the chairs into a circle to continue chatting in the dying light. All of his siblings were smiling and laughing and, for a moment, it was like nothing had happened. For a moment, his mother was in the kitchen finishing up the dishes and Fred was in there too, helping as punishment for flinging potatoes in Charlie’s ear. For a moment; and then he saw George turn to the empty seat on his left. His brother laughed a little to himself, sticking his tongue into his cheek, but when he looked back at Bill, his eyes were dimmer. </p><p>Ron pretended not to notice, “Lee said Zonko might retire soon. That’s good news, innit George?”</p><p>George grimaced, “Yeah. That’s wicked. Excuse me, I forgot that I need to tell Verity something for the shop.” </p><p>Harry elbowed Ron in the side, “I don’t think he heard you, mate.”</p><p>“Yeah. I don’t think he did,” Ron trailed off, turning back to the rest of his siblings. He didn’t want to know if George actually went back into the house to call Verity.</p><p>Bill took a swig of his drink, before nonchalantly waving his hand, “Harry, did you hear that the new DADA professor is thinking of retiring soon.” </p><p>His eyes lit up, “Professor Rangle? Why?” </p><p>Ron felt Harry literally shaking with excitement. He knew Harry hadn’t been happy with the auror position, thinking the Ministry had oversold it to them when they signed up last summer. That Harry had never really been interested in fighting dark wizards at all. That it had felt like an obligation, nothing more.</p><p>“Apparently, she’s getting up there in age. Flitwick mentioned it to me when I saw him the other week. He came into Gringotts to consult on some new security measures. You know, since the last ones didn’t really hold up too well against a dragon.” He pinned the two younger boys with a look. </p><p>Both Ron and Harry knew that Bill was teasing them (he’d been quite impressed with their break in the year before and laughed when they first told him the story). Still, they both looked down at their watches, awkwardly. </p><p>“Oh! ‘Arry, you should apply when ze old bat retires!” Fleur said, excitedly, “You ‘ave all ze experience!”</p><p>Ginny visibly straightened in her chair at the suggestion, but she didn’t say anything. She just turned to watch Harry, just as Ron did. Ron knew that Ginny hadn’t been thrilled that Harry’s job continued to put him in mortal danger. Every time they left for work, she’d tell them to “be <em> careful </em>” in a way that also said “if you die on the job, I will kill you both.” </p><p>Harry’s face was twinged red, “That’s really sweet of you, Fleur, but surely they’ll want someone older? With more experience?”</p><p>“‘Arry,” Fleur was dead serious now, “who ‘as more experience zan you?”</p><p>The conversation shifted with Charlie and Bill getting into a light-hearted tiff (“Bill, you always poke fun at dragons! They’re such brilliant creatures!” “No, Charlie, I poke fun at <em> you </em> and your insistence that they’re all brilliant creatures. Surely there’s got to be a dumb one in the lot!”). </p><p>Ron and Ginny were still sneaking sly glances at Harry. His cheeks had, mostly, returned to their natural bronze state, but he kept his eyes on his watch. From Ron’s angle, he could see that his best friend wore a small smile. Ron couldn’t help but smile too, hoping that at least one of them would find a job that they enjoyed. Ron didn’t have any new prospects, but that didn’t mean that Harry shouldn’t.</p><p>He leaned over to his best friend, nudging him, “Fleur’s right. You were basically our Defense professor during 5th year. You’d be brilliant.” </p><p>Harry didn’t do much to hide his surprise at the encouragement, but Ron tried to hide his stitch of hurt and regret. This time around, he’d do better for his friend. </p><p>“Thanks, mate. That means a lot. Really.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need help, Mrs. Weasley?”</p><p>Hermione waited in the kitchen doorway as her boyfriend’s mother bustled around to clean the dishes. Everyone else was outside still. Lee and Ginny had decided to have an actual competition to see who could throw rocks the farthest. Mr. Weasley was to serve as the “unbiased” referee (to be fair, he was pretty unbiased in that he thought of Lee as another son. The bias came in when you consider that Ginny was going to be a professional Chaser and Lee helped run a joke shop for a living). </p><p>“Oh, don’t you worry about it, dear. I’ll get them to sort themselves out in just a minute.” The older witch wiped her hands on her apron, “How have the four of you settled in?”</p><p>Hermione smiled back, ignoring the assumption that they all slept in different rooms, that Ron, Harry, and Ginny were home often enough to get settled, for it to matter where they slept, “We’re doing just fine. I’ve got some time on my hands before I start at the Ministry, so I thought I’d try my hand at cooking and baking.”</p><p>The pan that was being scrubbed mid air dropped into the sink, “Really?”</p><p>The younger witch nodded cautiously.</p><p>“Oh Hermione! How wonderful! I’ll have to lend you some books. Come with me now.” They swept out of the kitchen and back into the living room. “Alright, now here’s a few: <em> Enchantment in Baking </em> , <em> Charms to Cheese </em> , <em> Magic Maleficent’s Guide to Casseroles </em> , <em> One Minute Feasts–It’s Magic! </em> . You know I’ve always wanted a child who felt at home in the kitchen. George used to like it, but Fred always ended up convincing him to turn it into a potions project instead of a recipe. I love <em> Stewing Stews </em> on a winter’s day; you’ll take that one too <em> . </em> Oh and <em> Kamala’s Curries </em>. Ginny said Harry wanted to learn more about his heritage. Give that to him would you?” </p><p> This was, surprisingly, only the second time that Hermione had been loaded up with books at the Burrow. This time, though, she had to transport them back to Grimmauld Place.</p><p>“Do you need any help with that?” Charlie chuckled as he walked in from the back garden, almost knocking into her and her tower of books.</p><p>“Yes please.”</p><p>They piled the books on the bench in the back garden, waiting for Ginny to come down with an old bag that they could charm. Charlie waited with her, attempting to keep up the small talk. He wasn’t very good at it; they’d already flung through the end of school, the weather, and her job. </p><p>“How’s your scar coming along then?”</p><p>She felt her whole demeanor change, harden, as she instinctively pulled her arm across her stomach. No, Charlie was not good at small talk at all. She bit out the words, “It’s been over a year, Charlie. It’s fine.”</p><p>Charlie flinched a little, then quietly said, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it up like that. It’s just–” he started speaking faster, “I’ve done a good bit of research on magical wounds. I have scars too. They don’t heal right if you don’t treat them correctly.” </p><p>He began to pull up his sleeve, apparently to show her those scars when Hermione said, “That’s a false equivalency, Charlie.”</p><p>Charlie dropped his arm, “Right. Sorry.”</p><p>She jutted out her jaw, “I see now why you work with dragons.” </p><p>Charlie looked away from her hard gaze, breathing sharply, “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Ron found her a little while afterwards, alone in the garden. Charlie had left quickly as soon as Ginny showed up with the bag, and Ginny had gone not long after when she heard Lee still talking about their throwing contest. </p><p>“Alright?”</p><p>She nodded, not tearing her eyes away from the stars overhead, “Yeah.” A pause. “Charlie doesn’t have much tack does he?”</p><p>“No.” </p><p>So matter of fact. Hermione sucked in a breath and nodded, “Noted.”</p><p>“Let’s go back inside. I hear Mum got that new flavor of butterbeer I wanted to try.” His blue eyes were bright and so carefree and Hermione envied him in that moment.</p><p>Still, she took his outstretched hand and followed him into the warmth of the Burrow. Charlie caught her eye when they walked into the living room, he looked like he was going to apologize but Hermione smiled and waved her hand at him. With a smile, he forgave her too and went back into whispered conversation with Fleur on the couch.</p><p>All of the siblings had somehow found a way to squeeze into the living room, stacking pillows on the ground and conjuring chairs. Ron and Hermione slid next to Bill in front of the fireplace. </p><p>“Fawley’s awful,” Percy waved his glass about, sloshing a bit onto Fleur, who was (unfortunately) sitting next to him (yet again). She grumbled something in French. Charlie heard her and let out a little snort.</p><p>“He’s a right git that’s what he is,” Ron interjected with unusual conviction. Hermione looked at him, in question. He shrugged her off. She turned to Harry, who sat diagonal from her. He looked almost as miffed at the mention of Fawley as Ron. </p><p>“Last week he called me ‘halfbreed,” Harry said in explanation, with a forced casualness. </p><p>He’d said it quietly, just for Hermione’s ears, but everyone else in the room stilled. Except, of course, Percy, who was taking his new outlook on life (“I’m going to be a bit more loose! Not care about the consequences!”) a little too seriously. </p><p>“Now what is he on about? I thought we were over this blood mess. Well, I should say something. You know I’ve worked my way back up in Kingsley’s office–” </p><p>“Perce, I don’t think he was referring to Harry’s blood status,” Ginny said darkly. </p><p>A flush as scarlet spread across his face, “Oh.” </p><p>Hermione felt Ron’s hand imperceptibly tighten over her knee.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” George muttered under his breath. Hermione attempted, and failed, to suppress her laugh. </p><p>Harry and Ron, the only other two to understand what that meant, chuckled softly. At their new ease, the mood of the room shifted back and Percy and Bill began arguing over who was the better Head Boy. Hermione found it all quite entertaining until Charlie suggested that they owl the Head Girl that they each worked with.</p><p>“Oh yes, let’s do that Penelope was a fantastic Head Girl and I’m sure she’ll speak fondly of me,” Percy paused for a moment, deflating a tad, “She did break up with me, but that was years ago. That wouldn’t cloud her judgement,” he turned to Fleur and Charlie, the closest people to him, for confirmation, “Right?” </p><p>Fleur audibly groaned, apparently having taken her fill of Percy for the evening. She stood up from the couch abruptly, “Bill, didn’t we need to ask your mum a question?”</p><p>“You’re right, darling.”</p><p>The five youngest in the room roared with laughter as Fleur all but sprinted out of the room, Bill glaring at his brother. </p><p>“Well, I didn’t think it was <em> that </em>funny,” Percy said, clearly thinking that they were laughing at Penelope’s ability to separate her ex-boyfriend of four years from his performance as Head Boy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i ascribe to the hc that james potter is south asian if that was not clear. see u next week !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. friendship: a children's interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not everything is as it seems. For all that Harry’s friends love him, it is not surprising to anyone that he is not the most observant when it comes to social cues. He’d caught onto Hermione’s crush on Ron rather late, never noticed Dean and Seamus’ shared whispers in the dormitory, hadn’t even realized that he’d had a crush on Cedric until a year after he’d died. No, Harry was not always the most observant of his friends, even if he loved them fiercely. And so, this is to say that one of the many things that Harry missed, and one of the most interesting things if we’re being honest, was Hermione’s strange acquaintanceship with the Weasley twins in their younger years (for none of them would have called it friendship at the time).  </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>October 1991</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh not you two, as well!” Hermione had come up behind Fred and George, who were bent over a piece of parchment, snickering.</p><p>They turned around and quickly realized who had managed to sneak up on them. Their confused looks turned to ones of genuine interest before Fred said, “Now what are you on about, young Granger?”</p><p>She sighed, “Please don’t tell me you two are about to get yourselves in trouble, as well. Your brother and that Harry Potter are causing me enough of a headache and Gryffindor can’t stand to lose any more points.”</p><p>George let out a little laugh as Fred shrugged his shoulders (she was very proud to say that it had only taken her a few weeks to be able to tell them apart, thank you very much) (it was all in how they held themselves) and said, “What can we say, Hermione? It runs in the family.”</p><p>Hermione did not seem to be put at ease by this statement and opened her mouth again, probably to argue that Percy was a prefect and their eldest brother had been Head Boy, before George cut her off, “Don’t worry too much about ickle Ronnie, though. He doesn’t have that much of a penchant for trouble.” </p><p>“Those genes are just for the two of you then?”</p><p>“Oh we aren’t <em> all </em> bad Hermione!”</p><p>“Yeah! For instance, you’re about to get a tour around the castle by the two occupants that know it best!” George said with a zealous wave of his arm.</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes, “Now why would I need that?”</p><p>“Now, Hermione, don’t tell us you aren’t interested in the best shortcuts between classes and Gryffindor Tower.”</p><p>At this she pursed her lips, sighed, and started walking down the hall. She was a few feet away before she realized that they hadn’t followed, “Well? Are you coming?”</p><p>Grinning, the twins bound after her, pointing to various portraits and instructing her that it was more than encouraged to ooh and aah when appropriate. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>February 1993</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had loads of work to catch up on. She’d been stuck in the hospital wing for weeks and, even if Ron and Harry brought her work every evening, there was still a lot to do. She had to research the Chamber of Secrets and Harry’s family so that she could genealogically prove that he was <em> not </em> the Heir of Slytherin.</p><p>“His parents were both in Gryffindor. The <em> Heir </em> of <em> Slytherin </em>, honestly,” she muttered to herself as she sped through the hallways.</p><p>“Oi, Granger!” </p><p>“I do not have time for your antics,” Hermione answered without looking in the twins’ direction. </p><p>“Hermione! That’s rude!” Fred took up the spot on her right, dramatically putting his hand over his heart. George appeared on her left, grinning with his hands tucked behind his back. </p><p>“You know, Hermione, I’ve always admired the way you walk.”</p><p>That slowed her down, even if it was just a bit, “The way I walk?”</p><p>“Yeah,” George nodded like it was obvious, “With purpose.”</p><p>She groaned and picked up her previous pace, “That’s because I do have a purpose, and right now, talking to you two is getting in the way of that.”</p><p>The older boys had no trouble keeping up with her. Ron might have grown taller than George and Fred over the past year, but they still had a number of inches on Hermione. </p><p>“Fair enough,” Fred said, “Don’t let us be a bother. We’ll just follow you to the next turn.”</p><p>She stopped suddenly, “Wait a minute. What were you two doing down that hallway?”</p><p>Her question was quickly answered by the sound of a small explosion and a round of distant screams.</p><p>“George, what do you have behind your back?”</p><p>He grinned at her, “I have no idea what you mean.”</p><p>“You’ll make a perfect prefect, Granger.” </p><p>The twins started backing away from her now, down the hallway that led up to Gryffindor Tower.</p><p>“Absolutely the best.”</p><p>“Honestly, we’re really looking forward to it.”</p><p>They broke out into a jog. Just as they were about to turn up the stairs, Hermione saw George wave back at her. There was something round in his hand that looked, suspiciously, like a dungbomb. She shook her head and continued on to the library; she wasn’t a prefect yet. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>November 1993</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hullo, Hermione.”</p><p>She didn’t look up at two bodies slid into the seats across from her at her library table, “What do you two want? I’m busy.”</p><p>“Yes, we can see that.”</p><p>“Just wanted to check in. See how you were doing.”</p><p>Hermione looked up to give a stony look to the twin boys across from her. “This is the third time this year that you two have come by to ‘just check in.’”</p><p>George lifted his hands up in defense, “Well, Hermione, if you want us to be honest, we’re a bit concerned.”</p><p>“Yeah, if you drop dead, who’s going to keep Ron and Harry out of trouble? Not the brightest, those two.”</p><p>“<em> You </em> are incredibly dramatic,” she said, turning back to her parchment. Hermione had four essays and a star chart due at the beginning of next week and she was only halfway through.</p><p>“Hear that, Fred, you’re the dramatic one! I’ve been trying to tell you that for 15 years.”</p><p>Fred turned to his brother, “You know, I would be offended, except for the fact that <em> that </em> might be the nicest thing she’s ever said to us.”</p><p>“Too right,” George knocked his knuckles against the table top, “Well, we’ll be off Granger. You know where to find us if you need us.”</p><p>Hermione grunted and continued to focus on her essay. The better part of an hour had passed before she looked up again to find a new book to reference. On the other side of the table sat a small pile of candy from Honeydukes. She smiled slightly before picking up a sugar quill and continuing her work. </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>April 1994</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“‘Morning, Gin,” George slid into the seat next to his sister. She groaned in response.</p><p>“Rough night?”</p><p>“I have three essays due today! I was up in my room all night finishing them. Sarah and Aisling are not happy with me because my <em> lumos </em> apparently kept them up for hours.”</p><p>“Ah. Guess that means you didn’t hear about the blow up in the common room?” At her questioning look, he continued, “Ron and Granger are at it again. Not sure what he said this time, but one thing came out of his mouth and then she was crying and running up the stairs. Really put a damper on the win.” </p><p>“Oh no. Is she alright?”</p><p>George made a face while buttering his toast, “Don’t know. Ron’s just lucky Percy wasn’t there or else he’d had to’ve listened to Percy’s ‘don’t make girls cry’ lecture instead of Fred and I’s.”</p><p>“Yes because yours is so much better than Percy’s.”</p><p>He pointed his now buttered toast at his sister, “Yes. It is. And we take great pride in it.”</p><p>Ginny was rolling her eyes when Fred came down to sit opposite them, “‘Morning, you two.”</p><p>Their sister shook her head and made to get up, “Well now, I should go check on Hermione. Hopefully she won’t disappear again. Have you noticed she’s been doing that a lot lately?” Ginny didn’t wait for a response before leaving the table. </p><p>Fred looked at his brother, “Who knew you were such a gossip, Georgie.” </p><p>“I have no idea what you’re on about.”</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>September 1994</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Ron and Hermione stomped into the Gryffindor common room, unable to forget the best thing that might have ever happened to them: Draco Malfoy got turned into a ferret. </p><p>“Moody <em> bounced </em> him around, Hermione!”</p><p>“I know!”</p><p>They slumped into seats at the edge of the common room so as to not be overheard. George figured that they didn’t realize that the entirety of Gryffindor house was discussing exactly what happened in the courtyard earlier that day. Rumors had already started over how it happened, one of which said Harry had imperioused Moody into doing his bidding. George was fairly certain that one was started by Malfoy. </p><p>He tapped his dad’s old watch. If Fred wasn’t down soon, they’d miss DADA. Perhaps they could goad Moody into sharing some details. </p><p>“He totally deserved it. Did you see his face?”</p><p>“Yes! Jesus Christ–"</p><p>“Hermione, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I do not know what that means.” </p><p>George snorted from his seat, finally drawing the duo’s attention. Hermione’s eyes went wide in surprise, “She's invoking a deity, Ronniekins. It's the 'Oh Merlin and Morgana' for muggles.”</p><p> “Right.” </p><p>Ron looked at his brother in confusion before George answered his unasked question, “Someone’s got to listen to dad when he turns dinner into a muggle history lesson.”</p><p>“You aren’t even in muggle studies,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>George’s shoulders tightened. Just enough for Hermione to notice. Not enough for Ron to. “No, that’s Fred. He dropped it after OWLS.”</p><p>“You’re taking muggle studies?” Hermione piped up around the bickering brothers. </p><p>“I’m a man of mystery, Granger. Never forget it,” George, wagging his finger sarcastically, before turning to the dormitory stairs to find his twin before class. </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p>
  <b>December 1994</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“She keeps hovering,” Fred murmured under his breath to his brother.</p><p>They were bent over another letter to Ludo Bagman to try to convince him to pay out his debts. It wasn’t going very well.</p><p>George only pursed his lips and grunted, being the twin facing Hermione Granger in the Common Room. It had thinned out enough that the two were worried Hermione would overhear their conversation. Ron and Harry had gone up half an hour ago after having loudly made up 90% of their Divination homework yet again. </p><p>“It’s like she’s a buzzing bee.”</p><p>Now George could not argue with that description, though he wasn’t sure that he and Fred meant exactly the same thing by it. </p><p>“Hello,” Hermione suddenly shouted, though she was only a few feet away from them. Recollecting herself, she said more quietly, “George. Fred.”</p><p>George covered the parchment with arm, hoping the ink wouldn’t stain his sleeve, as Fred turned to answer her, “Now what can we help you with, Granger?”</p><p>“Oh, you know, not much.”</p><p>Fred and George raised their eyebrows to one another, “No.”</p><p>“We don’t know.”</p><p>“Well I was feeling a bit peckish and I was wondering if you two knew where I could go to get a late night snack.</p><p>“That <em> wasn’t </em> a Canary Creme,” she continued, noting Fred’s widening smirk. </p><p>“Hermione, are you asking us how to get down to the kitchens?”</p><p>“Yes, George, that is exactly what I’m asking,” she said with a huff, “And I think that you two are going to tell me because we both know that it will not <em> put them off their cooking. </em>” </p><p>Fred sighed, “I just said that to–”</p><p>“I know quite well why you said it,” Hermione snapped, “Now will you tell me how to get there or won’t you?”</p><p>The twins glanced at each other for a long moment before each cocking their heads to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, George could see Hermione’s nostrils flare.</p><p>“It’s under the Great Hall, down by the Hufflepuff Common Room,” he said, finally looking back to Hermione. </p><p>Fred narrowed his eyes a bit at his brother before turning as well, “There’s a painting of a bowl of fruit. Tickle the pear and it’ll open.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes were slightly wide, having not expected them to crack so easily. She nodded hastily.</p><p>“Thank you.” George could hear the gratitude in her voice. “They won’t be angry will they? That a student has come into the kitchens?”</p><p>She asked this with such earnest that both Fred and George let out small laughs (well George’s was small. Fred didn’t really hold back.). Fred wiped his eyes theatrically, “No. They won’t care. They’ll probably just ask if there’s anything they can get you.”</p><p>Hermione nodded again and murmured her thanks before backing away to go to bed.</p><p>“Hermione?” George called after her, unable to stop himself.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Talk to them will you? Actually speak with them and listen to what they have to say?”</p><p>She looked at him with a confusion and an intensity that he didn’t quite understand, “Okay. I will. ‘Night.”</p><p>When she had disappeared up the girl’s staircase Fred kicked his brother under the table with annoyance, “What was that for? I thought we said that we weren’t going to just tell her.”</p><p>George shrugged, innocently, “I thought it’d be good for her to talk to the house elves instead of just going on about S.P.E.W. having met all of one.” </p><p>Fred narrowed his eyes again before George continued, “Now only if we could get Bagman to talk to <em> us </em>. I wonder if we should ask Percy if he knows anything?”</p><p>His brother was suddenly back to normal and Fred threw up his hands, “Honestly not a bad idea. With how up in the Ministry’s business as Percy is, he has to know <em> something </em> about Bagman.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi sorry it's been a week. i've always loved how fred and george really looked after and cared for harry and honestly i highly doubt they wouldn't have extended that same kind of care to hermione (even if it was small and hidden from most other people). eventually we'll get a similar chapter that starts around ootp! i am re-reading all the books so that these literal two chapters will be canon-compliant lol. the only thing that isn't is the ferret scene and that's because i wrote remembering the movie and liked it too much to delete it. thanks again for sticking around &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. rebuilding: a new start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ron &amp; harry leave for auror training. ginny &amp; hermione are about to head back to school. george doesn't know what he's going to do.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>August 12, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny and Hermione decided to follow the boys to the hill, where they were going to apparate to the Ministry. The Floo system was still in repair and, frankly, no one at the Burrow had been pushing to open up their fireplace. The sky was grey and it was oddly cold for August. Hermione was wearing a sweater over her long sleeves and cradling her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come visit on Hogsmeade weekends, if I can,” Ron was saying as she nodded along, “We’ll see how intense the training is going to be and if they’ll be sending us on raids. I don’t really know what to expect since they changed the curriculum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be great. I know it.” They had talked about it. A lot. Ron understood. She couldn’t be part of a Wizarding police force. She couldn’t not go back to school. She couldn’t not complete her NEWTs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron looked down at her and smiled, gratefully. His hair was bright against the colorless sky and Hermione hoped that it would never fade, “Hermione?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is good for us, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gulped and nodded, gently pulling her crossed arms into her hands, “I’ll miss you, Mione.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll miss you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready, Ron?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ginny had pulled apart from their embrace. With one last look at Hermione, Ron kissed her forehead and followed his friend to the top of the hill. They were gone with a pop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they were gone, Hermione felt tears on her cheeks. Reaching up to wipe them away, Hermione realized that it had started to rain. Neither she or Ginny made a move to leave the hill. They’d probably would have continued to stand there if Molly hadn’t sent Lee out to find them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet Merlin, what are you two still doing out here? Mrs. Weasley doesn’t need another person bedridden in this house!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>August 14, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had rained for two days straight. While Hermione found it to be fitting, Ginny had found it bloody inconvenient. They’d gotten their Hogwarts letters and she’d been made quidditch captain. With the rain, she couldn’t practice and if she didn’t practice then she wouldn’t be able to make up for the months of lost training and then Gryffindor’s team wouldn’t win the Cup and if they didn’t win the Cup, Ginny wouldn’t get picked up by a team and if she didn’t get picked up by a team then she’d be right back here. And Ginny wouldn’t even let herself imagine that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood outside her brother’s door, letter in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be excited for you, Gin,” Lee had said at breakfast that morning, “I think it’d be great if you went to tell him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised her fist to knock and then dropped it. Raised it again, took a deep breath, and let it hit the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, I told you, I’m not hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His baritone was stronger than it was last time she’d heard it. He’d come down for her birthday dinner the other day, but his “happy birthday” was a whisper in her hair as he hugged her. He and Fred used to sing it, at the top of their lungs, “Georgie? It’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When silence followed, Ginny decided to take that as an invitation to come in. Her brother’s room was an absolute mess, much more than it usually was. Lee had managed to give Fred’s side some dignity, while George’s dirty laundry piled up into literal mountains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting in the desk chair, spinning and staring at the drops making their way down the window, “Well I sure am popular today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stared at each other from across the room and it was so different from any interaction she’d had with him in her first 17 years. When he and Fred had taught her to fly on a toy broom. When he heard that she was dating Dean Thomas and Fred had made fun of her but George had said he was happy for her. When they’d hide in the corner of this room and complain about Mum in whispers so that she wouldn’t hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got my Hogwarts letter today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made captain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny had never understood when people described a smile that didn’t meet someone’s eyes. She’d always thought that it was metaphorical, that of course smiles would meet people’s eyes because the muscles in their face moved the same way no matter what. She had never understood the phrase until she looked at her brother right then as he tried to smile at her, “That’s great, Gin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, “Well, I just wanted to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny was almost out the door when he called back out to her, “Ginny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be a wicked captain.” She smiled a little bit back at him before looking back at the floor. She didn’t think he’d say anything else, but he continued, “I really am proud of you. And-and I know that Fred would be too. He always said you’d be the best player of us all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure at what point she’d started crying but George had stood up and his hand was on her shoulder, “I miss him, George. I miss him so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know...me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That afternoon, Ginny went out back and practiced quidditch. It was the hardest she had practiced in years because she was more determined than ever to make a team.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>August 14, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock came on his door much earlier than he had expected, as Lee usually let him waste away in bed until at least 1 pm. It did not miss his notice that Lee, also, did not usually knock, “Whaddisit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George?” He didn’t answer. “It’s Hermione. Can I come in?” He didn’t answer again. “I have breakfast for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took more effort than he would have liked to admit to pull himself out of bed and open the door for Hermione. She stared up at him and he was struck by how small she seemed. He wondered if she’d been sleeping any better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, here,” she pushed a plate of eggs and toast into his hand and strode into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Usually Lee or Dad brings me breakfast. What do I owe this special occasion?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione held her arm. A new habit, he noticed. “Would it be outrageous for me to ask for yours and Fred’s old NEWT books? Lee suggested it, but I wasn’t sure if he even knew that you two had kept them and–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It wouldn’t be outrageous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Her body visibly relaxed as she picked at her sweater, “Okay. Thank you. I know that you two only took a couple to focus on the shop, but do you have charms or arithmancy? It’s no problem if you don’t, I’ll take whichever ones I can get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Hermione. We have all of them. You can take them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione narrowed her eyes at him in confusion, “But-why do you have all of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did his best to smile as he walked past her to the bookshelf in the corner of the messy room, “Light reading.” George sighed. There was no humor in his voice. Hopefully she knew that he was trying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a few minutes to find all of the correct books, “Do you want any others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked up from the floor, “Others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George moved aside so she could see the built in bookshelf hidden in the corner of the room. It was overflowing with thick, colorful books: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cerebral Magicke, Zonko’s: How We Did It, Woefully Exhausting Potions Notes, Mastery in Transfiguration: Book 1</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have some more at the flat, above the shop, but we brought the best ones back with us when we, uh, had to go into hiding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t known that they had gone into hiding, though it didn’t surprise her, “I can’t take those, George. Won’t you need them when you start to reopen the shop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione wasn’t prepared for the laugh that came out of him. It was the first laugh she’d heard come from his body in over a year. Usually when George laughed, it was melodic and shook his whole body. It was bright. This time, it was dark, “That’s funny, Granger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to open it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t have an answer for that. George continued to stack up the books for Hermione, “Do you want help moving them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione could levitate them herself, but George was up. He was talking. “Yes, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms loaded up, George started walking down the stairs to Ginny’s room, “Actually, uhm, can we take them up to Ron’s? I don’t think Ginny would be happy if I started to take over her room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. It took them a few trips to move all of the books from the twins’ room up to Ron’s. George explained that they had put an expanding charm on the bookshelf to fit everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to leave when Hermione stopped him, “George? I’d be happy to help, you know, with the shop.” He had his back turned to her, “My offer still stands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curtly, he said, “Lee said he’d help if I needed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Hermione said with an overexaggerated sigh, “I mean, Lee is great, but he isn’t the brightest witch of his age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George turned at the teasing lilt in her voice, surprised. He looked at her for a moment. There was an odd determination in her stance. He’d seen in it before, when she was reprimanding him and Fred for testing products on first years. George’s quiet laugh, this time, was not hollow. His small smile was real. “I’ll keep that in mind, Granger.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>August 30, 1998</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron’s room had been commandeered. The orange wallpaper and Chudley Cannons posters were almost completely hidden behind the wall of books. If Hermione didn’t think too hard on it, she could almost compare it to the labyrinth in the Room of Requirement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was well into the night and Hermione had perched a number of candles precariously on the highest stacks of books. Whenever there was a creak on the staircase, though, she’d put them all out with a wave of her hand. Better to not get accused of attempting to set the Burrow on fire. After the fourth creak, George snorted from across the room where he lounged, reading a charms book, “We’re at the top of the stairs, Hermione, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re more likely to escape her wrath than I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, knowing she was right. George’s broad shoulders had him squeezed tightly between two stacks and the movement pushed out the books on either side of him. He braced himself for impact and for the floor to actually catch on fire, but it never came. He looked up and the books were putting themselves neatly back into a stack. Hermione set her wand back down on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, touching his forehead, “Merlin’s fucking pants.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to those quidditch reflexes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went back to their respective reading. They usually sat in silence on these nights. Sometimes they’d ask each other questions if the other had more experience on a certain topic. George, it turned out, was particularly gifted with Charms and Hermione was determined to learn as much about Potions as possible. Harry’s brief success with Snape’s book still irked her, as petty as that sounded. She’d mentioned it to George, but he’d only nodded along, as if it was a perfectly reasonable ambition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the candles had almost burned out, George stood and stretched, “I know I said that you could have all the books, but, uhm, would it be alright if I kept a few when you go back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione tried to hide her surprise, but she was quite unsuccessful. George saw her shoulders stiffen and the whites of her eyes grew as she stared up at him, “Yes. Of course. They’re your books, anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a tight smile and started to look around the room for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Caring and Breeding Household Creatures</span>
  </em>
  <span>. George made his way through each stack as Hermione pulled the sleeve of her shirt up and down her arm. He’d seen the scar only once, when she didn’t think he was looking. In contrast, George had pulled up his own sleeves so she could see where he’d been marked too. He’d already told her of the nasty business he and Fred got into before they were forced to go into hiding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to reopen the shop,” she asked with a forced casualness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, “Yeah. Verity said she’d come back to help. Lee too. He might even be willing to stay on full-time, but it’d mean he’d have to give up his show and I can’t ask him to do that. We’ll do some mail orders for the first bit, then...we’ll see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked at him and opened her mouth, but he cut her off, “Hermione, don’t say he’d be proud of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t going to say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her nostrils flared a bit, then, and where he’d normally be worried about poking the sleeping dragon, he couldn’t really find himself to care, “I was going to say that someone needs to make sure the castle doesn’t feel like a graveyard and I’d rather it be you than Zonko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t respond to her, only grunting as he finally found </span>
  <em>
    <span>Caring and Breeding Household Creatures</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He made his way for the door, no doubt going to leave without a goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Write to me, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence. He looked at her now, really looked at her. Hermione’s brown curls were pulled back from her face and her skin glowed gold in the diminishing candlelight. Her face had a gauntness that he recognized all too well and he found himself wondering again if she was still having trouble sleeping, “Yeah. I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Hermione.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, George.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we're back (kind of) to our previously scheduled programming! next week we'll be getting a double header. as always, thank u for sticking along. (i tried to leave a little easter egg so lmk if u catch it)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. teddy becomes a big brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>james sirius potter is born on march 24, 2004.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>March 23, 2004. St. Mungo’s. 6:07 pm.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>St. Mungo’s was never a quiet place, but today it was made notably louder by the large family in its waiting room, who were all there to see a red-haired woman, who could be heard down the hall yelling, “I can’t believe I gave up the quidditch season for this! This hurts way more than getting hit by a bludger! How the hell did Mum pop out </span>
  <em>
    <span>seven</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe now she’ll be more grateful,” Molly humphed from her chair, having heard her daughter’s screams from around the bend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Molly and Arthur were notably the calmest of the extended Weasley clan that was gathered in the waiting room. Perhaps it was because they had been through the process a number of times themselves. Perhaps it was because Ginny wasn’t the first of their children to have children of their own. Perhaps it was because the only child that they were put in charge of watching was Teddy, who was supposed to be staying with the Potters that evening while his grandmother was out of town. It was probably a combination of the three (with emphasis on the latter).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur and Bill had been through this before, having had two children of their own. But Dom was not even a year old and Victoire was still adjusting to being a big sister (“Maman, why can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>read to me tonight?” “Because your father wants to read to you.” “But I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” “Alright, I’ll read to you then.” “Why can’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> read to me?”). It was fairly clear that if Ginny did not have a quick delivery then Bill and Fleur would pack up their tots and bring them back the next morning to meet their cousin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy (who’s “new lookout on life” hadn’t lasted long) and his wife Audrey were prattling over their daughter Molly (“I can’t believe he named her that. What a suck up.” “George!”). Molly II was perfectly fine, but Audrey and Percy were in deep discussion over whether it was smart to have their 6 month-old in St. Mungo’s. They would soon decide to be “better safe than sorry” and promise to come back in the morning to meet the new baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron and Charlie were out of the country and were unable to get portkeys into England until the next morning. George was, unsuccessfully (but with great gusto), trying to distract Victoire from her 3 year-old woes. Hermione sat next to him, absorbed in a book about pregnancy, ever so often turning to Molly and asking, “This is a normal amount of time to be in labor, right? There’s no need to worry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Molly always sighs and smiles before replying, “It’s alright, Hermione. This is quite normal if mundane. In pregnancy, mundane is good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Arthur nudged Teddy towards George and  gave a pointed look at his son. George yawned loudly, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay awake. Teddy, would you read me a bedtime story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy laughed, “It’s not bedtime!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George waved him off, “Oh, well. Why don’t you read an </span>
  <em>
    <span>evening</span>
  </em>
  <span> story to your Aunt Mione and me then,” Hermione glanced up from her book at the sound of her name, “I heard you’ve been practicing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little boy looked down at his shoes, hair twinging pink, “Maybe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, Teddy,” Hermione said, pulling a children’s book out of the bag they’d packed at the Potter’s, “I’ll read to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No. It’s okay.” Teddy balled his fists and climbed into the chair between Hermione and George, “I’ll read the bedtime story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two adults smiled at one another as the 5 year-old started on chapter two of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Polar Bears Past Bedtime</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hermione waved her wand to cast a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Muffliato</span>
  </em>
  <span> around the group as George went to pick up a curious Victoire. With the waiting room continuing to bustle around them, the four settled into the tale of Jack and Annie and their visit to the Arctic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>September 25, 2003</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andromeda?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Harry!” The older woman said, stooping down to look at the head that was popping out of her fireplace, “Did Teddy forget something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shook his head, “No, no. Nothing like that. Would it–would it be alright if Ginny and I came over for a moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within moments, Andromeda Tonks’ living room had two guests. Andromeda often spoke to Ginny and Harry Potter, arranging plans for Teddy, but also to just chat. She’d grown fond of the pair over the past few years, but she’d never seen either of them look this nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by his wife putting her hand on his arm, “No. Absolutely nothing is wrong. We just had some news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Well sit down, sit down. I’ll fetch us some tea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be wonderful, Andromeda,” Harry cracked a smile, moving to sit on the pristine couch behind him, “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved him off before pulling her wand out of her robes and flicking it towards the kitchen, “What’s this news? You can’t keep an old woman waiting with that sort of bait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny laughed as the tea floated through the air onto the coffee table in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Teddy?” Harry asked, ignoring the cup that his wife had just offered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda felt her eyebrows raise just a hair, “Out back. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pregnant, Andromeda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda lost her concentration for a second and the cup floating it’s way to her made a sudden dip in the air, “Oh.” It caught and the spilt tea went away in a flash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older woman looked at the young couple across the room and was suddenly brought back to another young couple sitting on that very couch telling her the exact same thing, “That, my darlings, is the most wonderful news I have heard in a very long time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Teddy knew that Harry and Ginny weren’t his parents. He knew that his parents had died in the battle that had killed Fred and many others. He knew that his grandmother was his mum’s mum and that she loved him very much. Teddy also knew that it was much more fun to be a kid in a big family that had other kids, so he was very excited that his surrogate aunt and uncle were having a baby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had given him his first sit-down talk a few months ago (after a long debate with Molly if it was appropriate that Teddy was not made aware of) to tell him that they were expecting a baby. He’d gotten the whole spiel of how “this baby is not going to replace you” and that “this changes absolutely nothing about how we feel about you and how you fit into our lives.” Teddy had asked his Grandmameda about that afterwards and apparently this is the standard conversation you have with a first-born child (Victoire went on to confirm this a few months later when he’d seen her at Christmas). Teddy’s only question for Harry and Ginny was if this baby changed the days he stayed with them (Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays) because he would “rather not miss Aunt Ginny’s quidditch practice.” It would be almost ten years before Teddy would understand why his aunt and uncle’s shoulders both sagged in relief and they laughed before pulling him into a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second sit-down talk Teddy had around this new baby was, of course, with his Grandmameda. She’d gone over the same talking points as Harry and Ginny, making sure that he really did understand that this wouldn’t change his relationship with them and that they all still loved him. Before these talks, Teddy had not been aware that having another baby could make parents love you less. With Dominique and Victoire, Dominique did get more attention but that was because she was a baby and couldn’t even walk. Victoire still had time with her parents and they were always hugging and kissing her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this sit-down talk, though, Teddy asked what he should call the baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffed, “Well, Dominique was born and she’s Victoire’s sister. But they have the same parents. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry are Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda nodded slowly, amazed at her own ability to understand the sentence that had just come from her grandson’s mouth, “That’s a good question, Teddy. I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth again, changed his mind and filled it with a biscuit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, what I do know is that this baby will be your family. Now, family isn’t everything, but it is important. You will be important to the baby and the baby will become important to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy scrunched his nose and nodded along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I want you to promise me something, Edward Lupin,” Andromeda looked down at her grandson with a serious expression, “I want you to do your very best to love this baby,” her face slipped into a joking smile, “no matter how much it cries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy burst into the beautiful laughter that can only be found in children.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>March 23, 2004. St. Mungo’s. 10:24 pm.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The little boy next to her was curled up in the way that only 5 year-olds can be. His limbs were going every which angle and his head was lolled back in a way that could not be comfortable, yet he snoozed away. Molly almost wished that she didn’t have to wake him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teddy, dear? Teddy? It’s time to wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The baby’s here, Teddy. Don’t you want to meet him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sprung up into a sitting position, hair going all sorts of colors. Molly had learned that this meant he was particularly excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the baby? Can I go see it? Can I go see Aunt Ginny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Molly smiled, patting his iridescent hair, “Yes, we can. Remember, though, that we have to be quiet because we’re in hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy’s little back straightened and his face went completely serious. He and his Grandmameda had practiced this over the last week. He was to be on his best behavior when he met the baby because babies were small and fragile and Aunt Ginny had gone through a lot of effort to make it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Molly held his little hand and led him down the corridor where Teddy’s Uncle Harry awaited them. Harry had mussed up his hair and he looked more tired than Teddy had ever seen him, but he looked happy. He looked really happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Harry! The baby is here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughed and picked up his godson from under his arms, “Yes he is, Teddy. Yes he is. Do you want to meet him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do! I do! I do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy’s hair was now circulating from being jet black to red to pink to blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then,” Harry said, putting Teddy back down and grabbing his hand, “We’re off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned back to Molly who had started to step along with them, “If it’s alright, Molly, Ginny suggested that we just bring Teddy in first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, her mouth a bit open, “Of course, Harry. Come grab us when you’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left her standing there, almost skipping down the corridor. Teddy was so excited, he almost skipped past the door. Only stopping when his godfather put his hands on his shoulders, “Just in there, Teddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was Teddy’s Aunt Ginny, who was sitting up in a bed. She looked more tired than his Uncle Harry, but Grandmameda had said that Aunt Ginny was doing all of the work so Teddy decided not to question it. Taking a few steps in, Teddy saw that she was holding a bundle of blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Teddy. Do you want to meet your little brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little boy’s eyes were wide, looking between his godparents, as he nodded. Harry came up behind him and lifted him onto the edge of Ginny’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny smiled down at him, tilting the bundle of blankets towards him. Out of the blankets poked a little nose and tufts of dark brown hair that looked just like his Uncle Harry’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teddy,” Harry placed his hand on his godson’s shoulder’s, “meet James. We named him after my dad, who was best friends with your dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy reached forward to touch the baby’s face. He only used one finger to light stroke his cheek. It was very soft and, remembering what Grandmameda had said, he pulled it back a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean James and I will be friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny laughed, handing the baby over to her husband. She opened her arms to motion for Teddy to crawl up next to her, “He’ll be your brother, darling. So yes. But also no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy scrunched up his nose, obviously not liking that answer at all. He leaned his little back into Ginny’s chest and crossed his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny looked around the room, hoping it would inspire a better explanation, “You know how my brothers fight? Like they did at last Christmas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little boy nodded, eyes wide. He remembered Ron and Percy yelling at one another over who had spilled the dressing down their great uncle BIllius’ vase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like that. But do you remember how they made up five minutes later once Mum brought out the pudding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy nodded again, in sort of (though he was mostly pretending) understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to hold him?” Harry asked, bringing the blanket bundle in front of Teddy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, but before he could say no, Ginny whispered in his ear, “You got it. I’ll help. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Teddy opened his arms just as Ginny’s went underneath his (“Support the head. Yes. There you go. Great job Teddy.”). It was like holding one of Victoire’s or Dominique’s dolls (when Victoire let him hold one. Dom wasn’t usually that stingy.). James’ eyes were the color of Ginny’s, bright and brown. Teddy deemed that he was a good mix of the two, with Harry’s dark hair, and he decided to say so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His godparents laughed and agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be a great big brother, Teddy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Teddy felt his brow furrow, “But what if I’m not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny chuckled, “That’s what Harry and I asked when we started to help look after you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy almost whipped around (“Careful, darling.”) but stayed still, “What? But you’re so great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled and patted his hair, “Well I’m glad that you think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny hummed quietly behind him, “Neither Harry or I have ever been big brothers, but we’ve both experienced them. Big brothers look after their siblings, make sure that they don’t get into too much trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they also have their younger siblings to look after them and keep them in their place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny chuckled, booping her son’s little nose, “Yes, I’m sure James will give you a run for your money in a few years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy smiled down at the baby, whose hair eyes looked just like both Ginny’s and Harry’s at once, and scrunched up his nose, willing his hair and eyes to change. He liked how it felt, to be that mix of people he loved, “Hi James. I’m your big brother, Teddy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>August 3, 2006. St. Mungo’s. 11:16 am.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Teddy, I don’t like this. It smells icky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James was small for his age, which had Harry wondering how much of his childhood looks were genetics and how much was neglect (it was honestly 50/50). His hair and eyes were still a weird, lovely mix of his parents, each taking on more and more aspects of his parents as he got older. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but we gotta wait! The new baby is almost here. You’re going to be a big brother!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy looked down and grabbed his little brother’s hand, “Yeah, just like me.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this took so long! It's a weird time. Let me know what you think of the Grandmameda (Grand-mom-eda like An-drom-eda). I think it's the perfect name for Teddy to call his grandmother. I like to think that it started as a joke between George, Ron, and Harry and young Teddy picked it up. Thanks for sticking along &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. a note from remus lupin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>remus leaves letters to harry and teddy</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Harry,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a tension in the air that I’m afraid is close to snapping, which is why I am writing you this letter. Something is coming–in a few days or weeks, maybe, but it is coming–and I wanted to make sure that I got my last words in to you when it does. But, I want you to know that you deserved this letter long before I had the courage to write it. It is when I think of my cowardice regarding you that I think that sorting hat made a big mistake many years ago.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Harry, I wanted to apologize to you for not being there when you were younger. Yes, of course, I tried to get in contact with you before you went to Hogwarts. I wrote letters to Petunia, looked up her phone number, called on Dumbledore multiple times. But it was later in your life and I should have done more. You deserved so much more. But it was easier to accept positions abroad, where people with lycanthropy aren’t as heavily regulated, and it was easier to think that maybe Petunia had changed (though I think that I knew that she hadn’t) and that you were better off without a werewolf caretaker. Of course, we know that the easiest things aren’t always the right things. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I ever tell you about the time that I met Petunia? When we were younger, she would accompany Lily and their parents to Platform 9 ¾. Your mother and I had always gotten along but we really hit our stride during 3rd year and, frankly, I think it’s because I met her sister right before we got on the train. Petunia was hiding behind their parents as I chatted with Lily and when she thought I was out of ear shot, muttered something nasty. Of course, I had heard about Petunia’s bitterness and I’d heard worse so I kept moving, but your mum was so angry. I think that she sat with me on the train for the first hour out of plain spite for Petunia. My respect for her grew enormously that day. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was a brilliant woman, that Lily Evans. I’ve told you this before, but you are so like her. Lily was unfailingly kind and she loved her friends fiercely. I can think of so many occasions of when I could say the same thing about you. She hated waking up early in the morning. She was maybe the smartest in our year (Sirius and Snape would’ve </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> to hear me say that). Her best friends were named Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas. They were all brilliant witches and loved to sing karaoke. She was a great friend and I miss her every day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your father was something else. It was James who figured out how to become an animagus to help me when I transformed at school. He was 13 and very impressed with himself (as he should’ve been). James was the most honorable person I have ever met. His word was his word and he loved just as much your mother. He loved everything with his whole heart, even a scared and angry 11 year-old werewolf. In so many ways, I owe him my life. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should’ve tried harder, Harry. Not just because I loved your parents, but because I loved you. I was never good with children (Sirius, Lily, and James were all much better with you), but it was terribly difficult to not like you. You had to grow up too fast and I could never wish that on any child. We grew up too fast and it, quite obviously, ended in our demise. It is my greatest hope, Harry, that the same does not happen to you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyways, I wanted to write to you so that you knew that I was sorry. I’m sorry that I did not do better for you. I’m sorry that you didn’t get the chance to know me and Sirius and your parents like you should. I’m sorry that we’ve made that hard for you. You know this by now, but the “adults” in our lives are never as perfect and kind as we want them to be. All goes right and I’ll be sure to tell you to your face. All this goes right and we’ll all be having dinner together every Sunday. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope it all goes right. If it doesn’t–well we will not entertain that thought, will we? I love you, Harry. Thank you for being Teddy’s godfather. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. Attached, you will find a letter for Teddy. Just in case.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Teddy, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want you to know that your mother and I love you so very much. We love you for the bubbles that come out of your mouth, the wild colors of your hair, and yours cries at 2 am. We love you for whoever you come to be. I know that I changed a lot as I grew older and it was scary and wonderful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We wanted you to grow up in a better world, Teddy. This world is not what it should be. It’s unnecessarily cruel and we had to fight for it, to fight for you and your future. If you have to grow up without me, Teddy, please know that I loved you so much and that I’m sorry we didn’t get to know one another.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the basement you will find my old school truck. It has my name on it. Inside, there are cases of vials. When you’re ready, ask Harry to find you a pensieve. Your mother and I saved some of our favorite memories (and some ones that we learned from) that we want to share with you. If you want, you can share them with Harry. I’m sure he would enjoy seeing the memories of his parents and Sirius. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We love you, Teddy. I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>note to self: don't try to write remus lupin saying goodbye to harry &amp; teddy after finishing all the young dudes. much cry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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